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AT  LOS  ANGELES 


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ENGLISH    POEMS 


EDITED  BY 
EDWARD    CHAUNCEY    BALDWIN,   Ph.D. 

AND 

HARRY   G.    PAUL,   A.M. 

ASSISTANT    I'KOFESSORS    OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE 
AT   THE   UNIVERSITY   OF    1LL1N<JIS 


a>Hc 


e  '    * 


NEW  YORK-:-  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN     BOOK    COMPANY 

15S017 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
EDWARD   CHAUNCEY    BALDWIN   and   HARRY  G.   PAUL. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London. 

BALDWIN   AND    PAUl's    ENG.    POEMS. 

w.  p.    I 


PREFACE 

To  put  forth  a  new  anthology  just  now  may  seem  to  imply 
on  the  part  of  the  editors  a  talent  for  the  malapropos  that  falls 
P  little  short  of  positive  genius.  The  editors  have,  however,  felt 
<t)the  need  in  their  own  work  of  an  anthology  which  should  com- 
bine measurable  completeness  with  an  amount  of  editing  suffi- 
cient for  supplying  needed  help  to  the  student,  and  for  furnishing 
material  for  classroom  work. 

In  the  selection  of  poems  the  primary  aim  has  been  to  include 

■  the  most  representative  work  of  the  chief  British  poets,  from 

2  Chaucer  to  Tennyson,  with  a  view  to  presenting  material  which 

o  should  at  the  same  time  be   representative  of  the   successive 

^periods   of   English   literary   history  and,  within   certain- limita- 

Ctions,  of  the  chief  types   of  poetry.     For  obvious  reasons  the 

^  drama  is  wholly  unrepresented,  and  the  epic  somewhat  inade- 

^quately  by  excerpts.     That  these  excerpts  are  taken  from  epics 

'  less  well  known  than  Paradise  Lost  is  due  to  the  fact  that  in 

o'the  opinion  of  the  editors  Paradise  Lost  would  lose  by  being 

^represented  by  citations  even  more  than  do  The  Faerie  Qiieene 

"and  LLudibras.     As  a  secondary  aim  the  editors  have  endeavored 

to  include  such  poems  as  lend  themselves  to  comparative  study. 

In   some  instances  these  two  purposes  have  conflicted.     The 

inclusion,  for   example,  of   Lamb's   Sonnet  XL  instead  of  his 

more  famous  as  well  as  more  representative  The .  Old  Familiar 

Faces  is  partly  inconsistent  with  the  general  plan  of  the  book, 

and  must  seek  its  justification  in  the  interesting  comparison  the 

SoJinet  affords  with  other  poems  expressing  the  same  sense  of 

the  holiness  of  childhood. 

£        The  editors  are  quite  aware  that  in  the  case  of  many  of  the 

minor  poems  the  wisdom  of  their  choice  will  be  questioned. 

3 


4  PREFACE 

Probably  no  selection  of  poems,  outside  those  which  must  of 
necessity  be  included  in  an  anthology,  would  seem  to  any 
teacher  entirely  inevitable.  In  the  choice  of  poems,  upon  the 
relative  value  of  which  the  verdict  has  not  been  final,  personal 
preference  must  play  a  considerable  part ;  and  perhaps  the 
editors  have  been  unduly  hampered  by  their  personal  prefer- 
ences. In  some  cases  they  have  been  influenced  in  their  choice 
by  their  experience  in  teaching,  which  has  led  them  occasionally 
to  include  poems,  not  so  much  because  they  are  significant  in 
their  relation  to  literary  history  or  because  they  lend  themselves 
to  a  comparative  study,  as  because  they  have  been  found  inter- 
esting to  students. 

In  the  editorial  work  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  avoid  the 
purely  informational  type  of  annotation.  The  aim  has  been 
to  furnish,  wherever  possible,  suggestions  that  will  enable  the 
student  to  supply  his  own  notes.  Similarly,  the  questions  that 
accompany  the  notes  are  designed  to  stimulate  and  suggest 
thought  on  the  part  of  both  teacher  and  student  rather  than  to 
make  thinking  unnecessary  on  the  part  of  either.  It  is  the 
exj>erience  of  the  editors  that  students  are  often  at  a  loss  as  to 
what  they  should  look  for  in  a  piece  of  literature,  and  that  their 
uncertainty  is  even  more  apparent  in  the  study  of  poetry  than 
in  that  of  prose.  To  meet  this  difficulty  the  cuestions  have 
been  provided.  In  some  cases  they  may  be  unnecessary.  In 
no  case  are  they  to  be  regarded  as  final  or  exhaustive. 

The  editors  will  welcome  friendly  criticism  and  the  correction 
of  errors,  from  which  they  are  not  so  sanguine  as  to  hope  that 
the  book  is  wholly  free. 

Urbana,  Illinois. 


CONTENTS 

THE   PERIOD    OF    PREPARATION 
GEOFFREY   CHAUCER  ( 1340 7-1400) . 

PAGE 

Now  Welcom  Somer    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .11 

The  Prologue        . 12 

BALLADS. 

Kemp  Owyne        ........••  23 

Helen  of  Kirconnell     .........  25 

Robin  Hood  and  Guy  of  Gisborne 26 

THE    RENAISSANCE 

SIR  THOMAS   WYATT  (1503-1542). 

A  Renouncing  of  Love  ......••       35 

A  Description  of  such  a  One  as  he  would  Love     ....       35 

HENRY   HOWARD,   EARL  OF   SURREY  (i5i7?-i547). 

Description  of  Spring  .........       36 

SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH  (i552?-i6i8). 

The  Lie 37 

Even  Such  is  Time        .........       39 

EDMUND   SPENSER  (1552?-! 599). 

ProthaVamion 40 

The  Faerie  Queene 45 

SIR   PHILIP   SIDNEY  (1554-1586). 

A  Ditty 51 

Sonnet  XXXI 52 

J(3HN   LYLY  (1 554?- 1 606). 

Apelles'  Song       . 5^ 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON  (1563-1631). 

Sonnet  LXI  ..........       53 

To  the  Cambro-Britons  and  Their  Harp,  His  Ballad  of  Agincourt       54 
5 


CONTENTS 


WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE  (1564-1616). 

Sonnets  XXLX,  XXX,  XXXIII,  LXXIII,  CXVI 

A  Madrigal —  The  Passionate  Pilgrim 

"When  Icicles  Hang  by  the  Wall — Lo2>e's  Labour's  Lost 

Tell  Me,  Where  is  Fancy  Bred  —  ALerchant  of  Venice. 

Under  the  Greenwood  Tree  —  As  Yoji  Like  It 

Blow,  Blow,  thou  Winter  Wind  —  As  You  Like  It 

Sigh  No  More,  Ladies  —  Much  Ado  about  Nothing 

O  Mistress  Mine  —  Twelfth  Night        .... 

Take,  O  Take  Those  Lips  Away —  Measure  for  I\icasiire 

Cup  Us  till  the  World  goes  Round  —  Antony  and  Cleopatra 

Hark  !   Hark  !  The  Lark  !  —  Cyinbeline 

Fear  No  More  the  Heat  o'  the  Sun  —  Cyinbeline 

Where  the  Bee  Sucks —  The  Tempest 

A  Sea  Dirge  —  The  Tempest        ..... 

THOMAS  CAMPION  (Died  1619). 

Fortunali  Nimium         .         .         .         .         .         .       _ . 

BEN   JONSON  (i573?-i637). 

Song — To  Celia  ........ 


PURITAN   AND  CAVALIER 

JOHN   DONNE  (1573-1631). 

A  Hymn  to  God  the  Father 70 

On  the  Sacrament         .........  70 

ROBERT   HERRICK  (1591-1674). 

The  Argument  of  the  Hesperides 71 

To  Daffodils 71 

GEORGE   HERBERT  (1593-1633). 

Virtue 72 

EDMUND   WALLER  (1606-16S7). 

Old  Age 73 

JOHN   MILTON  (1608-1674). 

L'Allegro 73 

II  Penseroso  ..........  78 

Lycidas 83 

On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont       ......  89 

On  His  Blindness 89 


CONTENTS  7 

PAGE 

SIR   JOHN   SUCKLING  (1609-1642). 

Why  so  Pale  and  Wan? 90 

I  Prithee  Send  Me  Back  My  Heart 90 

SAMUEL   BUTLER  (161 2-1 680). 

Extracts  from  Iludibras         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  -91 

RICHARD    LOVELACE  (1618-1658). 

To  Althea,  From  Prison        ........       98 

To  Lucasta,  On  Going  to  the  Wars 99 

HENRY   VAUGHAN  (1622-1695). 

The  Retreat 99 

JOHN   DRYDEN  (1631-1700). 

Mac  Flecknoe 101 

A  Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day  .         .         .         .'        .         .         .102 

THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

MATTHEW   PRIOR  (1664-1721). 

An  Ode 105 

JOHN   GAY  (1685-1732). 

Go,  Rose,  My  Chloe's  Bosom  Grace 105 

O,  Ruddier  than  the  Cherry 106 

ALEXANDER   POPE  (1688-1744). 

An  Essay  on  Criticism .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .106 

An  Essay  on  Man 113 

THE   PERIOD   OF   TRANSITION 

JAMES  THOMSON  (i 700-1 748). 

From  Winter 116 

Rule,  Britannia    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .118 

CHARLES   WESLEY  (1707-1788). 

Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul        .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .119 

THOMAS   GRAY  (1716-1771). 

Elegy  Written  in  a  Country  Churchyard 120 

The  Bard 125 

WILLIAM   COLLINS  (1721-1759). 

A  Song  from  Shakespeare's  Cymbeline  .         .         .         .         -130 

Ode  to  Evening    ..........     131 


8  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

OLIVER   GOLDSMITH  (i 728-1 774). 

The  Deserted  Village  .         . 133 

When  Lovely  Woman  Stoops  to  Folly 145 

WILLIAM   COWPER  (1731-1800^. 

On  the  Receipt  of  my  Mother's  Picture  out  of  Norfolk.          .         .  146 

WILLIAM    BLAKE    (i 757-1827). 

To  the  Evening  Star     .......,.,  149 

Mad  Song    ...........  150 

Songs  of  Innocence  :   Introduction        ......  151 

ROBERT   BURNS    (i 759-1 796). 

To  a  Mouse 152 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night         . 154 

To  a  Mountain  Daisy   .........  161 

O,  My  Luve's  like  a  Red,  Red  Rose 163 

Auld  Lang  Syne  ..........  164 

John  Anderson,  My  Jo 165 

Willie  Brevi^'d  a  Peck  o'  Maut 166 

Scot's,  wha  hae     ..........  167 

CAROLINA,    LADY   NAIRNE    (1766-1845). 

The  Land  o'  the  Leal  . 168 


THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH  (1770-1850). 

Lines,  Composed  a  Few  Miles  above  Tintern  Alibey  .  .  .170 
She  Dwelt  among  the  Untrodden  Ways  .  .  .  .  -ITS 
The  Daffodils  ;    or,  I  Wandered  Lonely  as  a  Cloud       .         .         '175 

Ode  to  Duty 176 

Ode:   Intimations  of  Immortality  from    Recollections    of    Early 

Childhood 178 

London,  1802 184 

The  World  is  too  Much  with  Us 185 

SIR    WALTER    SCOTT  (1771-1832). 

The  Battle  of  Bannockburn .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .186 

Jock  of  Hazeldean 193 

Lochinvar     ...........     195 

Border  Song 196 

SAMUEL  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  (i 772-1834). 

France :  an  Ode  ..........     197 


CONTENTS  9 

PAGE 

Hymn  before  Sunrise,  in  the  Vale  of  Chamouni    ....  201 

Kubla  KVian          ..........  204 

CHARLES   LAMB  (1775-1834). 

Sonnet  XI    ...........  205 

WALTER   SAVAGE   LANDOR  (1775-1864). 

Rose  Aylmer         ..........  206 

THOMAS   CAMPBELL  (1777-1844). 

Hohenlinden         ..........  207 

THOMAS   MOORE  (1779-1852). 

Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night 208 

LEIGH    HUNT  (1784-1859). 

Abou  Ben  Adhem          .........  2C9 

GEORGE  NOEL  GORDON,  LORD  BYRON  (178S-1824). 

Vision  of  Belsbazzar      .........  210 

The  Destruction  of  Sennacherib  .         .  .         .         .         .         .212 

The  Isles  of  Greece      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .213 

Sonnet  on  Chiilon         .  .         .         .         .  .         .         .  .217 

The  Prisoner  of  Chiilon         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .217 

PERCY   BYSSHE   SHELLEY  (1792-1822). 

Ode  to  the  West  Wind 230 

To  a  Skylark         ..........  233 

Adonais        ...........  236 

A  Lament     ...........  254 

JOHN   KEATS  (1795-1821). 

Ode  to  a  Nightingale    .........  255 

Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn           ........  258 

La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci   ........  260 

On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's  Homer    .....  261 

The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes 262 

THOMAS   HOOD  (1799-1845). 

I  Remember,  I  Remember  ........  276 

THE    VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

THOMAS   BABINGrON    MACAULAY  (icSoo-1859). 

'1  he  Battle  of  Nascby 278 

JOHN    HENRY   NEWMAN  (1801-1890). 

Lead  Kindly  Light        .........  280 


lO  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ELIZABETH   BARREIT  BROWNING  (1806-1861). 

Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese — XXII,  XLITI       .         .         .         .281 

A  Musical  Instrument 282 

ROBERT   BROWNING  (1812-1889). 

Song 284 

Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister 284 

My  Last  Duchess 286 

'  Childe  Ruland  to  the  Dark  Tower  Came  ' 288 

Andrea  del  Sarto 295 

Herve  Riel 303 

ARTHUR   HUGH   CLOUGH  (1819-1861). 

Where  Lies  the  Land  ? 308 

Say  Not  the  Struggle  Nought  Availeth 308 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD  (1822-1888). 

Shakespeare 309 

Dover  Beach 309 

Self-dependence 311 

GABRIEL   CHARLES   DANTE   ROSSETTI  (1828-1882). 

The  Blessed  Damozel 312 

My  Sister's  Sleep 317 

Sonnet  XIX — Silent  Noon 319 

Sonnet  LXXXVI  —  Lost  Days 319 

ALGERNON   CHARLES   SWINBURNE  (1837-         ). 

Chorus  from  Atalanta  in  Calydon 320 

The  Salt  of  the  Earth 322 

ALFRED   TENNYSON  (1809-1892). 

Mariana 322 

Break,  Break,  Break 325 

Bugle  Song 326 

Tears,  Idle  Tears 326 

InMemoriam  — XV,  XXX,  CXXXI 327 

The  Brook 329 

Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington      .         .         .         -331 

The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade 34° 

Milton  (Alcaics) 342 

Crossing  the  Bar  ....                            ....  342 

Notes 345 


ENGLISH    POEMS 

PERIOD   OF    PREPARATION 

GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 

1340?- 1400 

NOW   WELCOM    SOMER 

[From  The  ParleJiient  of  Failles'] 

*  Now  vvelcom  somer  with  thy  sonne  softe, 
That  hast  this  vvintres  weders  over-shake, 
And  driven  awey  the  longe  nightes  blake  ! 

Seynt  Valentyn,  that  art  ful  hy  on-lofte;  — 
Thus  singen  smale  foules  for  thy  sake  — 
Now  luekoin  somer,  with  thy  sonne  softe, 
That  hast  this  wintres  iveders  over-shake. 

Wei  han  they  cause  for  to  gladen  ofte, 

Sith  ech  of  hem  recovered  hath  his  make ; 

Ful  bhsful  may  they  singen  whan  they  wake; 

Now  welcom  somer,  with  thy  sonne  softe. 

That  hast  this  wintres  weders  07'er-shake, 

And  driven  awey  the  longe  nightes  blakeJ 


12  PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

THE   PROLOGUE 
Here  biginneth  the  Book  of  the  Tales  of  Caunterbury 

Whan  that  Aprille  with  his  shoures  sote 

The  droghte  of  Marche  hath  perced  to  the  rote, 

And  bathed  every  veyne  in  swich  licour 

Of  which  vertu  engendred  is  the  flour  ; 

Whan  Zephirus  eek  with  his  swete  breeth  5 

Inspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  heeth 

The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 

Hatli  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  cours  y-ronne, 

And  smale  fowles  raaken  melodye, 

That  slepen  al  the  night  with  open  ye,  lo 

(So  priketh  hem  nature  in  hir  corages)  : 

Than  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pilgrimages 

(And  palmers  for  to  seken  straunge  strondes) 

To  feme  halwes,  coutlie  in  sondry  londes ; 

And  specially,  from  every  shires  ende  15 

Of  Engelond,  to  Caunterbury  they  wende. 

The  holy  blisful  martir  for  to  seke, 

That  hem  hath  holpen  whan  that  they  were  seke. 

Bifel  that,  in  that  seson  on  a  day, 
In  Southwerk  at  the  Tabard  as  I  lay  20 

Redy  to  wenden  on  my  pilgrimage 
To  Caunterbury  with  ful  devout  corage, 
At  night  was  come  in-to  that  hostelrye, 
Wei  nyne  and  twenty  in  a  companye. 

Of  sondry  folk,  by  aventure  y-falle  25 

In  felawshipe,  and  pilgrims  were  they  alle, 
That  toward  Caunterbury  wolden  ryde. 
The  chambres  and  the  stables  weren  wyde, 
And  wel  we  weren  esed  atte  beste. 

And  shortly,  whan  the  sonne  was  to  reste,  30 

So  hadde  I  spoken  with  hem  everichon, 
That  I  was  of  hir  felawshipe  anon, 


CHAUCER  I 3 

And  made  forward  erly  for  to  ryse, 
To  take  our  wey,  ther  as  I  yovv  devyse. 

But  natheles,  whyl  I  have  tyme  and  space,  35 

Er  that  I  ferther  in  this  tale  pace, 
Me  thinketh  it  accortlaunt  to  resoun 
To  telle  yovv  al  the  condicioun 
Of  ech  of  hem,  so  as  it  semed  me,       " 
And  whiche  they  weren,  and  of  what  degree,  40 

And  eek  in  what  array  that  they  were  inne  : 
And  at  a  knight  than  wol  I  first  biginne. 

A  Knight  ther  was  and  that  a  worthy  man, 
That  fro  the  tyme  that  he  first  bigan 

To  ryden  out,  he  loved  chivalrye,  45 

Trouthe  and  honour,  fredom  and  curteisye. 
Ful  worthy  was  he  in  his  lordes  werre. 
And  thereto  hadde  he  riden  (no  man  ferre) 
As  wel  in  Cristendom  as  hethenesse, 
And  ever  honoured  for  his  worthinesse.  50 

At  Alisaundre  he  was,  whan  it  was  wonne ; 
Ful  ofte  tyme  he  hadde  the  bord  bigonne 
Aboven  alle  naciouns  in  Pruce. 
In  Lettow  hadde  he  reysed  and  in  Ruce, — 
No  Cristen  man  so  ofte  of  his  degree.  55 

In  Gernade  at  the  sege  eek  hadde  he  be 
Of  Algezir,  and  riden  in  Belmarye. 
At  Lyeys  was  he,  and  at  Satalye, 
Whan  they  were  wonne  ;  and  in  the  Grete  See 
At  many  a  noble  aryve  hadde  he  be.  60 

At  mortal  batailles  hadde  he  been  fiftene, 
And  foughten  for  oure  feith  at  Tramissene 
In  listes  thryes,  and  ay  slayn  his  foo. 
This  ilke  worthy  knight  had  been  also 
Somtyme  with  the  lord  of  Palatye  65 

Ageyn  another  hethen  in  Turkye  : 


14  PERIOD    OF    PREPARAIION 

And  evermore  he  hadde  a  sovereyn  prys. 

And  though  that  he  were  worthy,  he  was  wys, 

And  of  his  port  as  meke  as  is  a  mayde. 

He  never  yet  no  vileinye  ne  sayde,  70 

In  al  his  lyf,  un-to  no  maner  wight. 

He  was  a  verray  parfit,  gentil  knight. 

But  for  to  tellen  yow  of  his  array, 

His  hors  were  gode,  but  he  was  nat  gay ; 

Of  fustian  he  wered  a  gipoun,  75 

Al  bismotered  with  his  habergeoun, 

For  he  was  late  y-conie  from  his  viage, 

And  wente  for  to  doon  his  pilgrimage. 


Ther  was  also  a  Nonne,  a  Prioresse, 
That  of  hir  smyling  was  ful  simple  and  coy  ;  80 

Hir  gretteste  00th  was  but  by  seynt  Loy, 
And  she  was  cleped  madame  Eglentyne. 
Ful  wel  she  song  the  service  divyne, 
Entuned  in  hir  nose  ful  semely  ; 

And  Frensh  she  spak  ful  faire  and  fetisly,  85 

After  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte  Bowe, 
For  Frensh  of  Paris  was  to  hir  unknowe. 
At  mete  wel  y-taught  was  she  with-alle  ; 
She  leet  no  morsel  from  hir  lippes  falle, 
Ne  wette  hir  fingres  in  hir  sauce  depe.  9° 

Wel  coude  she  carie  a  morsel  and  wel  kepe, 
That  no  drope  ne  fille  up-on  hir  brest. 
In  curteisye  was  set  ful  muche  hir  lest. 
Hir  over  lippe  wyped  she  so  clene, 

That  in  hir  coppe  was  no  ferthing  sene  95 

Of  grece,  whan  she  dronken  hadde  hir  draughte. 
Ful  semely  after  hir  mete  she  raughte, 
And  sikerly  she  was  of  greet  disport, 
And  ful  plesaunt  and  amiable  of  port. 


CHAUCER  I 5 

And  peyned  hir  to  countrefete  chere  loo 

Of  court,  and  been  estatlich  of  manere, 

And  to  ben  holden  digne  of  reverence. 

But,  for  to  speken  of  hir  conscience, 

She  was  so  charitable  and  so  pitous, 

She  wolde  wepe,  if  that  she  sawe  a  mous  105 

Caught  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  deed  or  bledde. 

Of  smale  houndes  had  she,  that  she  fedde 

With  rosted  flesh,  or  milk  and  wastel-breed. 

But  sore  weep  she  if  oon  of  hem  were  deed, 

Or  if  men  smoot  it  with  a  yerde  smerte  :  no 

And  al  was  conscience  and  tendre  herte. 

Ful  semely  hir  wimpel  pinched  was  ; 

Hir  nose  tretys  ;  hir  eyen  greye  as  glas  ; 

Hir  mouth  ful  smal,  and  ther-to  softe  and  reed ; 

But  sikerly  she  hadde  a  fair  forheed  ;  115 

It  was  almost  a  spanne  brood,  I  trowe  ; 

For,  hardily,  she  was  nat  undergrowe. 

Ful  fetis  was  hir  cloke,  as  I  was  war. 

Of  smal  coral  aboute  hir  arm  she  bar 

A  peire  of  bedes,  gauded  al  with  grene  ;  120 

And  ther-on  heng  a  broch  of  gold  ful  shene, 

On  which  ther  was  first  write  a  crowned  A, 

And  after  Amor  vincit  omnia. 

Another  Nonne  with  hir  hadde  she. 
That  was  hir  chapeleyne,  and  Preestes  three.  125 

A  Monk  ther  was,  a  fair  for  the  maistrye, 
An  out-rydere,  that  lovede  venerye  ; 
A  manly  man,  to  been  an  abbot  able. 
Ful  many  a  deyntee  hors  hadde  he  in  stable  : 
And,  whan  he  rood,  men  mighte  his  brydel  here  130 

Ginglen  in  a  whistling  wind  as  clere, 
And  eek  as  loude,  as  dooth  the  chapel-belle, 
Ther  as  this  lord  was  keper  of  the  celle. 
The  reule  of  seint  Maure  or  of  seint  Beneit, 


l6  PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

By-cause  that  it  was  old  and  som-del  streit,  135 

This  ilke  monk  leet  olde  thinges  pace, 

And  held  after  the  newe  world  the  space. 

He  yaf  nat  of  that  text  a  pulled  hen, 

That  seith  that  hunters  been  nat  holy  men  ; 

Ne  that  a  monk,  whan  he  is  cloisterlees,  140 

Is  lykned  til  a  fish  that  is  waterlees  ; 

This  is  to  seyn,  a  monk  out  of  his  cloistre. 

But  thilke  text  held  he  nat  worth  an  oistre ; 

And  I  seyde,  his  opinioun  was  good. 

What  sholde  he  studie,  and  make  him-selven  wood,       145 

Upon  a  book  in  cloistre  alwey  to  poure. 

Or  swinken  with  his  handes  and  laboure, 

As  Austin  bit  ?    How  shal  the  world  be  served  ? 

Lat  Austin  have  his  swink  to  him  reserved. 

Therfore  he  was  a  pricasour  aright  ;  150 

Grehoundes  he  hadde,  as  swift  as  fowel  in  flight  ; 

Of  priking  and  of  hunting  for  the  hare 

Was  al  his  lust,  for  no  cost  wolde  he  spare, 

I  seigh  his  sieves  purfiled  at  the  hond 

With  grys,  and  that  the  fyneste  of  a  lond  ;  155 

And,  for  to  festne  his  hood  under  his  chin, 

He  hadde  of  gold  y-wroght  a  curious  pin  : 

A  love-knotte  in  the  gretter  ende  ther  was. 

His  heed  was  balled  that  shoon  as  any  glas, 

And  eek  his  face  as  he  had  been  anoint.  160 

He  was  a  lord  ful  fat  and  in  good  point ; 

His  eyen  stepe  and  rollinge  in  his  heed, 

That  stemed  as  a  forneys  of  a  leed  ; 

His  botes  souple,  his  hors  in  greet  estat. 

Now  certeinly  he  was  a  fair  prelat;  165 

He  was  nat  pale,  as  a  for-pyned  goost.' 

A  fat  swan  loved  he  best  of  any  roost. 

His  palfrey  was  as  broun  as  is  a  berye. 


CHAUCER  17 

A  Clerk  ther  was  of  Oxenford  also, 
That  Lin-to  logik  hadde  longe  y-go.  170 

As  lene  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake, 
And  he  nas  nat  right  fat,  I  undertake ; 
But  loked  holwe,  and  ther-to  soberly. 
Ful  thredbar  was  his  overest  courtepy  ; 
For  he  had  geten  him  yet  no  benefyce,  175 

Ne  was  so  worldly  for  to  have  offyce. 
For  him  was  lever  have  at  his  beddes  heed 
Twenty  bokes,  clad  in  blak  or  reed. 
Of  Aristotle  and  his  philosophye, 

Than  robes  riche,  or  fithele,  or  gay  sautrye.  180 

But  al  be  that  he  was  a  phiiosophre, 
Yet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  cofre  ; 
But  al  that  he  mighte  of  his  freendes  hente, 
On  bokes  and  on  lerninge  he  it  spente, 
And  bisily  gan  for  the  soules  preye  185 

Of  hem  that  yaf  hym  wher-with  to  scoleye. 
Of  studie  took  he  most  cure  and  most  hede. 
Noght  o  word  spak  he  more  than  was  nede, 
And  that  was  seyd  in  forme  and  reverence. 
And  short  and  quik  and  ful  of  hy  sentence.  190 

Souninge  in  moral  vertu  was  his  speche, 
And  gladly  wolde  he  lerne,  and  gladly  teche. 


A  Good  Wyf  was  ther  of  bisyde  Bathe, 
^ut  she  was  som-del  deef,  and  that  was  scathe. 
Of  clooth-making  she  hadde  swiche  an  haunt  195 

She  passed  hem  of  Ypres  and  of  Gaunt. 
In  al  the  parisshe  wyf  ne  was  ther  noon 
That  to  the  offring  bifore  hir  sholde  goon  ; 
And  if  ther  dide,  certeyn,  so  wrooth  was  she, 
That  she  was  out  of  alle  charitee.  200 

Hir  coverchiefs  ful  fyne  were  of  ground; 

ENG.  POEMS  —  2 


PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

I  dorste  swere  they  weyeden  ten  pound, 

That  on  a  Son  day  were  upon  hir  heed. 

Hir  hosen  weren  of  fyn  scarlet  reed, 

Ful  streite  y-teyd,  and  shoos  ful  moiste  and  newe.  205 

Bold  was  hir  face,  and  fair,  and  reed  of  hewe. 

She  was  a  worthy  womnian  al  hir  lyve, 

Housbondes  at  chirche-dore  she  hadde  fyve, 

Withouten  other  companye  in  youthe  ; 

But  therof  nedeth  nat  to  speke  as  nouthe.  210 

And  thryes  hadde  she  been  at  Jerusalem ; 

She  hadde  passed  many  a  straunge  streem  ; 

At  Rome  she  hadde  been,  and  at  Boloigne, 

In  Galice  at  seint  lame,  and  at  Coloigne. 

She  coude  muche  of  wandring  by  the  weye.  215 

Gat-tothed  was  she,  soothly  for  to  seye. 

Upon  an  amblere  esily  she  sat, 

Y-wimpled  wel,  and  on  hir  heed  an  hat 

As  brood  as  is  a  bokeler  or  a  targe  ; 

A  foot-mantel  aboute  hir  hipes  large,  220 

And  on  hir  feet  a  paire  of  spores  sharpe. 

In  felawschip  wel  coude  she  laughe  and  carpe. 

Of  remedyes  of  love  she  knew  per-chaunce, 

For  she  coude  of  that  art  the  olde  daunce. 

A  good  man  was  ther  of  religioun,  225 

And  was  a  povre  Persoun  of  a  toun  ; 
But  riche  he  was  of  holy  thoght  and  werk. 
He  was  also  a  lerned  man,  a  clerk. 
That  Cristes  gospel  trewely  wolde  preche ; 
His  parisshens  devoutly  wolde  he  teche.  230 

Benigne  he  was,  and  wonder  diligent. 
And  in  adversitee  ful  pacient ; 
And  swich  he  was  y-preved  ofte  sythes. 
Ful  looth  were  him  to  cursen  for  his  tythes, 
But  rather  wolde  he  yeven,  out  of  doute,  235 


CHAUCER  19 

Un-to  his  povre  parisshens  aboute 

Of  his  offring,  and  eek  of  his  substaunce. 

He  coude  in  litel  thing  han  suffisaunce. 

Wyd  was  his  parisshe,  and  houses  fer  a-sonder, 

But  he  ne  lafte  nat,  for  reyn  ne  thonder,        ^  240 

In  siknes  nor  in  meschief  to  visyte 

The  ferreste  in  his  parisshe,  muche  and  lyte, 

Up-on  his  feet,  and  in  his  hand  a  staf. 

This  noble  ensample  to  his  sheepe  he  yaf, 

That  first  he  wroghte,  and  afterward  he  taughte  ;  245 

Out  of  the  gospel  he  tho  wordes  caughte  ; 

And  this  figure  he  added  eek  ther-to, 

That  if  gold  ruste,  what  shal  iren  do  ? 

For  if  a  preest  be  foul,  on  whom  we  truste, 

No  wonder  is  a  lewed  man  to  ruste  ;  250 

And  shame  it  is,  if  a  preest  take  keep, 

A  shiten  shepherde  and  a  clene  sheep. 

Wei  oghte  a  preest  ensample  for  to  yive 

By  his  clennesse,  how  that  his  sheepe  shold  live. 

He  sette  nat  his  benefice  to  hyre,  255 

And  leet  his  sheepe  encombred  in  the  myre. 

And  ran  to  London,  un-to  seynt  Poules, 

To  seken  him  a  chaunterie  for  soules, 

Or  with  a  bretherhed  to  been  withholde  ; 

But  dwelte  at  hoom,  and  kepte  wel  his  folde,  260 

So  that  the  wolf  ne  made  it  nat  miscarie  ; 

He  was  a  shepherde,  and  no  mercenarie. 

And  though  he  holy  were  and  vertuous, 

He  was  to  sinful  man  nat  despitous, 

Neof  his  speche  daungerous  ne  digne,  265 

But  in  his  teching  discreet  and  benigne. 

To  drawen  folk  to  heven  by  fairnesse 

By  good  ensample,  was  his  bisinesse : 

But  it  were  any  persone  obstinat, 

What-so  he  were,  of  heigh  or  lowe  estat,  270 


20  PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

Him  wolde  he  snibben  sharply  for  the  nones. 

A  bettre  preest,  I  trowe  that  nowher  noon  is. 

He  wayted  after  no  pompe  and  reverence, 

Ne  maked  him  a  spyced  conscience, 

But  Cristes  lore,  and  his  apostles  twelve,  275 

He  taughte,  and  first  he  folwed  it  him-selve. 

***** 
Now  have  I  told  you  shortly,  in  a  clause, 
Thestat,  tharray,  the  nombre,  and  eek  the  cause 
Why  that  assembled  was  this  companye 
In  South werk,  at  this  gentil  hostel  rye,  280 

That  highte  the  Tabard,  faste  by  the  Belle. 
But  now  is  tyme  to  yow  for  to  telle 
How  that  we  baren  us  that  ilke  night. 
Whan  we  were  in  that  hostelrye  alight. 
And  after  wol  I  telle  of  our  viage,  285 

And  al  the  remenaunt  of  oure  pilgrimage. 

***** 
Greet  chere  made  our  hoste  us  everichon, 
And  to  the  soper  sette  he  us  anon  ; 
And  served  us  with  vitaille  at  the  beste. 
Strong  was  the  wyn,  and  wel  to  drinke  us  leste.  290 

A  semely  man  our  hoste  was  with-alle 
For  to  han  been  a  marshal  in  an  halle  ; 
A  large  man  he  was,  with  eyen  stepe, 
A  fairer  burgeys  is  ther  noon  in  Chepe  : 
Bold  of  his  speche,  and  wys,  and  wel  y-taught  295 

And  of  manhod  him  lakkede  right  naught. 
Eek  therto  he  was  right  a  mery  man, 
And  after  soper  pleyen  he  bigan, 
And  spak  of  mirthe  amonges  othere  thinges. 
Whan  that  we  hadde  maad  our  rekeninges  ;  300 

And  seyde  thus  :  '  Now,  lordinges,  trewely, 
Ye  been  to  me  right  welcome,  hertely  : 


CHAUCER  2 I 

For  by  my  trouthe,  if  that  I  shall  nat  lye, 

I  ne  saugh  this  yeer  so  mery  a  companye 

At  ones  in  this  herberwe  as  is  now.  305 

Fayn  wolde  I  doon  yow  mirthe,  wiste  I  how. 

And  of  a  mirthe  I  am  right  now  bithoght, 

To  doon  yow  ese,  and  it  shal  coste  noght. 

Ye  goon  to  Caunterbury  ;  God  yow  spede, 
The  blisful  martir  quyte  yow  your  mede.  310 

And  wel  I  woot,  as  ye  goon  by  the  weye, 
Ye  shapen  yow  to  talen  and  to  pleye  ; 
For  trewely,  contort  ne  mirthe  is  noon 
To  ryde  by  the  weye  doumb  as  a  stoon  ; 
And  therfore  wol  I  maken  yow  disport,  315 

As  I  seyde  erst,  and  doon  yow  som  contort. 
And  if  yow  lyketh  alle,  by  oon  assent. 
Now  for  to  stonden  at  my  lugement, 
And  for  to  werken  as  I  shal  yow  seye, 
To-morwe,  whan  ye  ryden  by  the  weye,  320 

Now,  by  my  fader  soule,  that  is  deed. 
But  ye  be  mery,  I  wol  yeve  yow  myn  heed. 
Hold  up  your  hond,  withouten  more  speche. ' 

Our  conseil  was  nat  longe  for  to  seche  ; 
Us  thoughte  it  was  noght  worth  to  make  it  wys,  325 

And  graunted  him  withouten  more  avys. 
And  bad  him  seye  his  verdit,  as  him  leste. 

'  Lordinges,'  quod  he,  '  now  herkneth  for  the  beste  ; 
But  tak  it  not,  I  prey  yow,  in  desdeyn  ; 
This  is  the  poynt,  to  speken  short  and  pleyn,  330 

That  ech  of  yow,  to  shorte  with  youre  weye. 
In  this  viage,  shal  telle  tales  tweye. 
To  Caunterbury-ward,  I  mene  it  so. 
And  hom-ward  he  shal  tellen  othere  two. 
Of  aventures  that  whylom  han  bifalie.  335 

And  which  of  yow  that  "bereth  him  best  of  alle. 
That  is  to  seyn,  that  telleth  in  this  cas 


22  PERIOD    OF    PREPARATION 

Tales  of  best  sentence,  and  most  solas, 

Shal  have  a  soper  at  our  aller  cost 

Here  in  this  place,  sittinge  by  this  post,  340 

Whan  that  we  come  agayn  fro  Caunterbury. 

And,  for  to  make  yow  the  more  mery, 

I  wol  my-selven  gladly  with  yow  ryde, 

Right  at  myn  owne  cost,  and  be  your  gyde  ; 

And  who-so  wol  my  lugement  withseye  345 

Shal  paye  al  that  we  spenden  by  the  weye. 

And  if  ye  vouche-sauf  that  it  be  so, 

Tel  me  anon,  with-outen  wordes  mo, 

And  I  wol  erly  shape  me  therfore.' 

This  thing  was  graunted,  and  oure  othes  swore  350 

With  ful  glad  herte,  and  preyden  him  also 
That  he  wold  vouche-sauf  for  to  do  so. 
And  that  he  wolde  been  our  governour, 
And  of  our  tales  luge  and  reportour, 

And  sette  a  soper  at  a  certeyn  prys ;  35^ 

And  we  wold  reuled  been  at  his  devys, 
In  heigh  and  lowe  ;  and  thus,  by  oon  assent. 
We  been  acorded  to  his  lugement. 
And  ther-up-on  the  wyn  was  fet  anon  ; 
We  dronken,  and  to  reste  wente  echon,  360 

With-outen  any  lenger  taryinge. 


BALLADS 


KEMP  OWYNE 

Her  mother  died  when  she  was  young 

Which  gave  her  cause  to  make  great  moan ; 

Her  father  married  the  warst  woman 
That  ever  lived  in  Christendom. 

She  served  her  with  foot  and  hand,  5 

In  every  thing  that  she  could  dee, 
Till  once,  in  an  unlucky  time, 

She  threw  her  in  ower  Craigy's  sea. 

Says,  '  Lye  you  there,  dove  Isabel, 

And  all  my  sorrows  lye  with  thee  ;  10 

Till  Kemp  Owyne  come  ower  the  sea, 

And  borrow  you  with  kisses  three : 
Let  all  the  warld  do  what  they  will, 

Oh  borrowed  shall  you  never  be.' 

Her  breath  grew  Strang,  her  hair  grew  lang,  15 

And  twisted  thrice  about  the  tree. 
And  all  the  people,  far  and  near. 

Thought  that  a  savage  beast  was  she. 

The  news  did  come  to  Kemp  Owyne, 

Where  he  lived  far  beyond  the  sea ;  20 

He  hastened  him  to  Craigy's  sea, 

And  on  the  savage  beast  lookt  he. 
23 


24  PERIOD    OF   rREPARATION 

Her  breath  was  Strang,  her  hair  was  lang, 

And  twisted  was  about  the  tree, 
And  with  a  swing  she  came  about :  25 

'  Come  to  Craigy's  sea,  and  kiss  witli  me. 

'  Here  is  a  royal  belt,'  she  cried, 

'  That  I  have  found  in  the  green  sea ; 

And  while  your  body  it  is  on, 

Drawn  shall  your  blood  never  be  ;  30 

But  if  you  touch  me,  tail  or  fin, 

I  vow  my  belt  your  death  shall  be.' 

He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss, 

The  royal  belt  he  brought  him  wi  ; 
Her  breath  was  Strang,  her  hair  was  lang,  35 

And  twisted  twice  about  the  tree, 
And  with  a  swing  she  came  about : 

'  Come  to  Craigy's  sea,  and  kiss  with  me. 

'  Here  is  a  royal  ring,' she  said, 

'  That  I  have  found  in  the  green  sea;  40 

And  while  your  finger  it  is  on. 

Drawn  shall  your  blood  never  be  ; 
But  if  you  touch  me,  tail  or  fin, 

I  sw^ear  my  ring  your  death  shall  be.' 

He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss,  45 

The  royal  ring  he  brought  him  wi  ; 

Her  breath  was  Strang,  her  hair  was  lang. 
And  twisted  ance  about  the  tree. 

And  with  a  swing  she  came  about : 

'  Come  to  Craigy's  sea,  and  kiss  with  me.  50 

'  Here  is  a  royal  brand,'  she  said, 

'  That  I  have  found  in  the  green  sea ; 

And  while  your  body  it  is  on. 

Drawn  shall  your  blood  never  be  ; 


BALLADS  25 

But  if  you  touch  me,  tail  or  fin,  55 

I  swear  my  brand  your  death  shall  be.' 

He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss, 

The  royal  brand  he  brought  him  wi  ; 
Her  breath  was  sweet,  her  hair  grew  short, 

And  twisted  nane  about  the  tree ;  60 

And  smilingly  she  came  about. 

As  fair  a  woman  as  could  be. 


HELEN  OF   KIRCONNELL 

PART    SECOND 
(From  Scott's  Border  Miiisfrchv,  1S02-3) 

I  WISH  I  were  where  Helen  lies  ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries  ; 
O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies, 
On  fair  Kirconnell  Lee  ! 

Curst  be  the  heart  that  thought  the  thought,  5 

And  curst  the  hand  that  fired  the  shot, 
When  in  my  arms  burd  Helen  dropt, 
And  died  to  succour  me  ! 

O  think  na  ye  my  heart  was  sair, 

When  my  love  dropt  down  and  spak  nae  mair  !  10 

There  did  she  swoon  wi'  mickle  care 
On  fair  Kirconnell  Lee. 

As  I  went  down  the  water-side, 
None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide, 

None  but  my  foe  to  be  my  guide,  15 

On  fair  Kirconnell  Lee  ! 


26  PERIOD    OF   PREPARATION 

I  lighted  clown,  my  sword  did  draw, 
I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma', 
I  hacked  him  in  pieces  sma', 

For  her  sake  that  died  for  me.  20 

O,  Helen  fair,  beyond  compare ! 
I'll  make  a  garland  of  thy  hair, 
Shall  bind  my  heart  for  evermair. 
Until  the  day  I  die ! 

O  that  I  were  where  Helen  lies  !  25 

Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries ; 
Out  of  my  bed  she  bids  me  rise, 
Says,  '  Haste,  and  come  to  me ! ' 

0  Helen  fair !     O  Helen  chaste  ! 

If  I  were  with  thee,  I  were  blest,  30 

Where  thou  lies  low,  and  takes  thy  rest. 
On  fair  Kirconnel  Lee. 

1  wish  my  grave  were  growing  green, 
A  winding  sheet  drawn  ower  my  een. 

And  I  in  Helen's  arms  lying,  35 

On  fair  Kirconnell  Lee. 

I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies ! 
Night  and  day  on  me  she  cries  ; 
And  I  am  weary  of  the  skies. 

For  her  sake  that  died  for  me.  40 


ROBIN    HOOD    AND    GUY   OF   GISBORNE 

When  shawes  beene  sheene,  and  shradds  full  fay  re, 

And  leeves  both  large  and  longe, 
Itt  is  merry,  walking  in  the  fayre  fforrest, 

To  heare  the  small  birds  songe. 


BALLADS  I'J 

The  woodweele  sang,  and  wold  not  cease,  5 

Amongst  the  leaves  a  lyne  ; 
And  it  is  by  two  wight  yeomen, 

By  deare  God,  that  I  meane. 

#  *  *  *  * 

*  Me  thought  they  did  mee  beate  and  binde. 

And  tooke  my  bow  mee  froe  ;  10 

If  I  bee  Robin  a-live  in  this  lande, 
rie  be  wrocken  on  both  them  towe.' 

'  Sweavens  are  swift,  master,'  quoth  John, 

'  As  the  wind  that  blowes  ore  a  hill  ; 
Ffor  if  itt  be  never  soe  lowde  this  night,  15 

To-morrow  it  may  be  still.' 

'  Buske  yee,  bowne  yee,  my  merry  men  all, 

For  John  shall  goe  with  mee  ; 
For  I'le  goe  seeke  yond  wight  yeomen 

In  greenwood  where  they  bee.'  20 

They  cast  on  their  gowne  of  greene, 

A  shooting  gone  are  they. 
Until  they  came  to  the  merry  greenwood, 

Where  they  had  gladdest  bee  ; 
There  were  they  ware  of  a  wight  yeoman,  25 

His  body  leaned  to  a  tree. 

A  sword  and  a  dagger  he  wore  by  his  side, 

Had  beene  many  a  man's  bane, 
And  he  was  cladd  in  his  capull-hyde, 

Topp,  and  tayle,  and  mayne.  30 

'Stand  you  still,  master,'  quoth  Little  John, 

'  Under  this  trusty  tree, 
And  I  will  goe  to  yond  wight  yeoman, 

To  know  his  meaning  trulye.' 


28  PERIOD    OF    PREPARATION 

'  A,  John,  by  me  thou  setts  noe  store,  « 

And  that's  a  ffarley  thinge  ; 
How  offt  send  I  my  men  beffore, 

And  tarry  my-selfe  behinde  ? 

'  It  is  noe  cunning  a  knave  to  ken, 

And  a  man  but  heare  him  speake ;  .^ 

And  itt  were  not  for  bursting  of  my  bowe, 

John,  I-wold  thy  head  breake.' 

But  often  words  they  breeden  bale, 

That  parted  Robin  and  John; 
John  is  gone  to  Barnesdale, 

The  gates  he  knowes  eche  one. 


45 


And  when  hee  came  to  Barnesdale, 

Great  heavinesse  there  hee  hadd  ; 
He  ffound  two  of  his  fellowes 

Were  slaine  both  in  a  slade,  co 

And  Scarlett  a-ffoote  flyinge  was, 

Over  stockes  and  stone, 
For  the  sheriffe  with  seven  score  men 

Fast  after  him  is  gone. 

'  Yett  one  shoote  Fie  shoote,'  sayes  Little  John,  55 

'  With  Crist  his  might  and  mayne  ; 
I'le  make  yond  fellow  that  flyes  soe  fast 

To  be  both  glad  and  ffaine.' 

John  bent  up  a  good  veiwe  bow. 

And  ffettled  him  to  shoote  ;  60 

The  bow  was  made  of  a  tender  boughe, 

And  fell  downe  to  his  foote. 

'  Woe  worth  thee,  wicked  wood,'  sayd  Little  John, 
'  That  ere  thou  grew  on  a  tree  I 


BALLADS  29 

For  this  day  thou  art  my  bale,  65 

My  boote  when  thou  shold  bee  !  ' 

This  shoote  it  was  but  looselye  shott, 

The  arrowe  flew  in  vaine, 
And  it  niett  one  of  the  sheriffes  men  ; 

Good  William  a  Trent  was  slaine.  7° 

It  had  beene  better  for  William  a  Trent 

To  hange  upon  a  gallowe 
Then  for  to  lye  in  the  greenwoode, 

There  slaine  with  an  arrowe. 

And  it  is  sayd,  when  men  be  mett,  75 

Six  can  doe  mere  than  three  : 
And  they  have  tane  Little  John, 

And  bound  him  ffast  too  a  tree. 

'  Thou  shalt  be  drawen  by  dale  and  downe,' 

Quothe  the  sheriffe,  2° 

'  And  hanged  hye  on  a  hill :  ' 
'  But  thou  may  ffayle,'  quoth  Little  John, 

'  If  itt  be  Christ's  owne  will.' 

Let  us  leave  talking  of  Little  John, 

For  hee  is  bound  fast  to  a  tree,  85 

And  talke  of  Guy  and  Robin  Hood 

In  the  greenwoode  where  they  bee. 

How  these  two  yeomen  together  they  mett, 

Under  the  leaves  of  lyne, 
To  see  what  marchandise  they  made  9° 

Even  at  that  same  time. 

'  Good  morrow,  good  fellow,'  quoth  Sir  Guy  ; 

'  Good  morrow,  good  ffellow,'  quothe  hee  ; 
'  Methinks  by  this  bow  thou  beares  in  thy  hand, 

A  good  archer  thou  seems  to  bee,  95 


PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

'  I  am  wilfull  of  my  way,'  quote  Sir  Guye, 

'  And  of  my  morning  tyde  :  ' 
*I'le  lead  thee  through  the  wood,'  quoth  Robin, 

'  Good  ffellovv,  I'le  be  thy  guide.' 

*  I  seeke  an  outlaw,' quoth  Sir  Guye,  loo 

'  Men  call  him  Robin  Hood  ; 
I  had  rather  meet  with  him  upon  a  day 
Then  forty  pound  of  golde.' 

'  If  you  tow  mett,  itt  wold  be  seene  whether  were  better 
Afore  yee  did  part  awaye  ;  105 

Let  us  some  other  pastime  find, 
Good  ffellow,  I  thee  pray. 

*  Let  us  some  other  masteryes  make, 

And  wee  will  walke  in  the  woods  even ; 
Wee  may  chance  meet  with  Robin  Hoode  no 

Att  some  unsett  Steven.' 

They  cut  them  downe  the  summer  shroggs 

Which  grew  both  under  a  bryar, 
And  sett  them  three  score  rood  in  twinn, 

To  shoote  the  prickes  full  neare.  "5 

'Leade  on,  good  ffellow,'  sayd  Sir  Guye, 

'  Leade  on,  I  doe  bidd  thee  : ' 
'  Nay,  by  my  faith,'  quoth  Robin  Hood, 

'  The  leader  thou  shall  bee.' 

The  first  good  shoot  that  Robin  ledd,  120 

Did  not  shoote  an  inch  the  pricke  ffroe  ; 
Guy  was  an  archer  good  enoughe; 

But  he  cold  neere  shoote  soe." 

The  second  shoote  Sir  Guy  shott, 

He  shott  within  the  garlande ;  125 


BALLADS  31 

But  Robin  Hoode  shott  it  l^etter  than  hee, 
For  he  clove  the  good  pricke-wande. 

'  God's  blessing  on  thy  heart !  '  sayes  Guye, 

'  Goode  ffellow,  thy  shooting  is  goode  ; 
For  an  thy  hart  be  as  good  as  thy  hands,  130 

Thou  wert  better  than  Robin  Hood. 

'  Tell  me  thy  name,  good  ffellovv,'  quoth  Guy, 

'  Under  the.  leaves  of  the  lyne  : ' 
'  Nay,  by  my  faith,'  quoth  good  Robin, 

'  Till  thou  have  told  me  thine.'  135 

'  I  dwell  by  dale  and  downe,'  quoth  Guye, 

'  And  I  have  done  many  a  curst  turne  ; 
And  he  that  calles  me  by  my  right  name, 

Calls  me  Guye  of  good  Gysborne.' 

'  My  dwelling  is  in  the  wood,'  sayes  Robin  ;  140 

'  By  thee  I  set  right  nought ; 
My  name  is  Robin  Hood  of  Barnesdale, 

A  ffellow  thou  hast  long  sought.' 

He  that  had  neither  beene  a  kithe  nor  kin 

Might  have  scene  a  full  fayre  sight,  14s 

To  see  how  together  these  yeoman  went. 

With  blades  both  browne  and  bright. 

To  have  scene  how  these  yeomen  together  fought 

Two  howers  of  a  summer's  day  ; 
Itt  was  neither  Guy  nor  Robin  Hood  15° 

That  ffettled  them  to  flye  away. 

Robin  was  reacheles  on  a  roote. 

And  stumbled  at  that  tyde. 
And  Guy  was  quicke  and  nimble  with-all, 

And  hitt  him  ore  the  left  side.  155 


32  PERIOD    OF   PREPARATION 

'  Ah,  deere  Lady  ! '  sayd  Robin  Hoode, 

'  Thou  art  both  mother  and  may  ! 
I  thinke  it  was  never  man's  destinye 

To  dye  before  his  day.' 

Robin  thought  on  Our  Lady  deere,  i6o 

And  soone  leapt  up  againe, 
And  thus  he  came  with  an  awkwarde  stroke  ; 

Good  Sir  Guy  hee  has  slayne. 

He  tooke  Sir  Guy's  head  by  the  hayre, 

And  sticked  itt  on  his  bowe's  end :  -  165 

'  Thou  hast  beene  traytor  all  thy  liffe, 

Which  thing  must  have  an  ende.' 

Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irish  kniffe, 

And  nicked  Sir  Guy  in  the  fface, 
That  hee  was  never  on  a  woman  borne  170 

Cold  tell  who  Sir  Guye  was. 

Sales, '  Lye  there,  lye  there,  good  Sir  Guye, 

And  with  me  be  not  wrothe  ; 
If  thou  have  had  the  worse  stroakes  at  my  hand. 

Thou  shalt  have  the  better  cloathe.'  175 

Robin  did  off  his  gowne  of  greene. 

Sir  Guye  hee  did  it  throwe  ; 
And  hee  put  on  that  cappull-hyde 

That  cladd  him  topp  to  toe. 

'  The  bowe,  the  arrowes,  and  litle  home,  180 

And  with  me  now  I'le  beare  ; 
Ffor  now  I  will  goe  to  Barnesdale, 

To  see  how  my  men  doe  ffare.' 

Robin  sett  Guye's  home  to  his  mouth, 

A  lowd  blast  in  it  he  did  blow  ;  185 


BALLADS  33 

That  beheard  the  sheriffe  of  Nottingham, 
As  he  leaned  under  a  lowe. 

*  Hearken  !  hearken  ! '  sayd  the  sheriffe, 

'  I  heard  noe  tydings  but  good  ; 
For  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guy's  home  blowe,  190 

For  he  hath  slaine  Robin  Hoode. 

*  For  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guy's  home  blow, 

Itt  blowes  soe  well  in  tyde, 
For  yonder  comes  that  wighty  yeoman, 

Cladd  in  his  capull-hyde.  195 

'  Come  hither,  thou  good  Sir  Guy, 

Aske  of  mee  what  thou  wilt  have  : ' 
'  rie  none  of  thy  gold,'  sayes  Robin  Hood, 

'  Nor  I'le  none  of  itt  have. 

'  But  now  I  have  slaine  the  master,'  he  sayd,  200 

'  Let  me  goe  strike  the  knave  ; 
This  is  all  the  reward  I  aske, 

Nor  noe  other  will  I  have.' 

'  Thou  art  a  madman,'  said  the  sheriffe, 

'  Thou  sholdest  have  had  a  knight's  ffee  ;  205 

Seeing  thy  asking  hath  beene  soe  badd. 

Well  granted  it  shall  be.' 

But  Little  John  heard  his  master  speake, 

Well  he  knew  that  was  his  Steven  ; 
'  Now  shall  I  be  loset,'  quoth  Little  John,  210 

'With  Christs  might  in  heaven.' 

But  Robin  hee  hyed  him  towards  Little  John, 
Hee  thought  hee  wold  loose  him  belive  ; 

The  sheriffe  and  all  his  companye 

Fast  after  him  did  drive.  215 

ENG.   POKMS  —  3 


34  PERIOD   OF   PREPARATION 

'  Stand  abacke  !  stand  abacke  ! '  sayd  Robin  ; 

'  Why  draw  you  mee  soe  neere  ? 
Itt  was  never  the  use  in  our  countrye 

One's  shrift  another  shold  heere.' 

But  Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irysh  kniffe,  220 

And  losed  John  hand  and  ffoote, 
And  gave  him  Sir  Guye's  bow  in  his  hand, 

And  bade  it  be  his  boote. 

But  John  tooke  Guye's  bow  in  his  hand 

(His  arrowes  were  rawstye  by  the  roote)  ;  225 

The  sheriffe  saw  Little  John  draw  a  bow 
And  fifettle  him  to  shoote. 

Towards  his  house  in  Nottingham 

He  ffled  full  fast  away, 
And  soe  did  all  his  companye,  230 

Not  one  behind  did  stay. 

But  he  cold  neither  soe  fast  goe, 

Nor  away  soe  fast  runn, 
But  Little  John,  with  an  arrow  broade, 

Did  cleave  his  heart  in  twinn.  235 


WYATT  35 

THE    RENAISSANCE 

SIR   THOMAS    WYATT 

1503-1542 

A   RENOUNCING   OF   LOVE 

Farewell,  Love,  and  all  thy  laws  forever ! 

Thy  baited  hooks  shall  tangle  me  no  more  : 

Senec  and  Plato  call  me  from  thy  lore 

To  perfect  wealth  my  wit  for  to  endeavor. 

In  blind  error  when  I  did  persever,  S 

Thy  sharp  repulse,  that  pricketh  aye  so  sore, 

Taught  me  in  trifles  that  I  set  no  store  ; 

But  'scaped  forth  thence  since,  liberty  is  lever. 

Therefore,  farewell !  go  trouble  younger  hearts, 

And  in  me  claim  no  more  authority.  10 

With  idle  youth  go  use  thy  property, 

And  thereon  spend  thy  many  brittle  darts  ; 

For  hitherto  though  I  have  lost  my  time, 

Me  list  no  longer  rotten  boughs  to  climb. 

A  DESCRIPTION  OF  SUCH  A  ONE  AS  HE  WOULD 

LOVE 

A  FACE  that  should  content  me  wondrous  well, 

Should  not  be  fair,  but  lovely  to  behold. 

Of  lively  look,  all  grief  for  to  repell. 

With  right  good  grace,  so  would  I  that  it  should 

Speak  without  word,  such  words  as  none  can  tell ;  ^ 

The  tress  also  should  be  of  crisped  gold. 

With  wit  and  these  perchance  I  might  be  tied, 

And  knit  again  with  knot  that  should  not  slide. 


36  THE   RENAISSANCE 


HENRY    HOWARD,   EARL    OF   SURREY 

i5i7?-i547 
DESCRIPTION   OF   SPRING 

The  soote  season,  that  bud  and  bloom  forth  brings, 

With  green  hath  clad  the  hill,  and  eke  the  vale. 

The  nightingale  with  feathers  new  she  sings  ; 

The  turtle  to  her  make  hath  told  her  tale. 

Summer  is  come,  for  every  spray  now  springs,  5 

The  hart  hath  hung  his  old  head  on  the  pale  ; 

The  buck  in  brake  his  winter  coat  he  slings ; 

The  fishes  flete  with  new  repaired  scale  ; 

The  adder  all  her  slough  away  she  slings  ; 

The  swift  swallow  pursueth  the  flies  smale  ;  10 

The  busy  bee  her  honey  now  she  mings  ; 

Winter  is  worn  that  was  the  flowers'  bale. 
And  thus  I  see  among  these  pleasant  things 
Each  care  decays,  and  yet  my  sorrow  springs ! 


RALEIGH  37 

SIR   WALTER    RALEIGH 

1552  ?-i6i8 
THE  LIE 

Go,  Soul,  the  body's  guest, 

Upon  a  thankless  arrant ! 
Fear  not  to  touch  the  best ; 

The  truth  shall  be  thy  warrant : 
Go,  since  I  needs  must  die,  5 

And  give  the  world  the  lie. 

Say  to  the  court  it  glows 

And  shines  like  rotten  wood  ; 
Say  to  the  church  it  shows 

What's  good,  and  doth  no  good  :  10 

If  court  and  church  reply, 
Then  give  them  both  the  lie. 

Tell  potentates  they  live 

Acting  by  others'  action, 
Not  loved  unless  they  give,  15 

Not  strong  but  by  a  faction. 
If  potentates  reply. 
Give  potentates  the  lie. 

Tell  men  of  high  condition 

That  manage  the  estate,  20 

Their  purpose  is  ambition. 

Their  practice  only  hate  : 
And  if  they  make  reply. 
Then  give  them  all  the  lie. 

Tell  them  that  brave  it  most,  25 

They  beg  for  more  by  spending, 

15S017 


38  THE   RENAISSANCE 


Who,  in  their  greatest  cost, 

Seek  nothing  but  commending  : 
And  if  they  make  reply, 
Then  give  them  all  the  lie.  30 

Tell  zeal  it  wants  devotion  ; 

Tell  love  it  is  but  lust ; 
Tell  time  it  is  but  motion  ; 

Tell  flesh  it  is  but  dust : 
And  wish  them  not  reply,  35 

For  thou  must  give  the  lie. 

Tell  age  it  daily  wasteth  ; 

Tell  honor  how  it  alters ; 
Tell  beauty  how  she  blasteth  ; 

Tell  favor  how  it  falters  :  40 

And  as  they  shall  reply, 
Give  every  one  the  lie. 

Tell  wit  how  much  it  wrangles 

In  tickle  points  of  niceness  ; 
Tell  wisdom  she  entangles  45 

Herself  in  over-wiseness  : 
And  when  they  do  reply, 
Straight  give  them  both  the  lie. 

Tell  physic  of  her  boldness  ; 

Tell  skill  it  is  pretension  ;  30 

Tell  charity  of  coldness  ; 

Tell  law  it  is  contention  : 
And  as  they  do  reply. 
So  give  them  still  the  lie. 

Tell  fortune  of  her  blindness  ;  55 

Tell  nature  of  decay  ; 
Tell  friendship  of  unkindness  ; 

Tell  justice  of  delay  : 


RALEIGH  39 

And  if  they  will  reply, 

Then  give  them  all  the  lie.  60 

Tell  arts  they  have  no  soundness, 

But  vary  by  esteeming  ; 
Tell  schools  they  want  profoundness, 

And  stand  too  much  on  seeming  : 
If  arts  and  schools  reply,  65 

Give  arts  and  schools  the  lie. 

Tell  faith  it's  fled  the  city ; 

Tell  how  the  country  erreth  ; 
Tell  manhood  shakes  off  pity  ; 

Tell  virtue  least  preferreth  :  70 

And  if  they  do  reply. 
Spare  not  to  give  the  lie. 

So  when  thou  hast,  as  I 

Commanded  thee,  done  blabbing, — 
Although  to  give  the  lie  75 

Deserves  no  less  than  stabbing, — 
Stab  at  thee,  he  that  will. 
No  stab  the  soul  can  kill. 

EVEN  SUCH  IS  TIME 

Even  such  is  time,  that  takes  in  trust 

Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have. 

And  pays  us  but  with  earth  and  dust ; 

Who,  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways,  5 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days  : 

But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust. 

My  God  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust, 


40  THE  RKNAISSANCE 

EDMUND    SPENSER 

155-^?-!  599 
PROTHALAMION 

Cm.mf,  was  the  clay,  and  through  the  trembling  a)  re 

Sweet-breathing  Zephyrus  did  softly  play, 

A  gentle  spirit,  that  lightly  did  delay 

Hot  Titans  beames,  which  then  did  glyster  fayre ; 

When  I,  whom  sullein  care,  5 

Through  discontent  of  my  long  fruitlesse  stay 

In  princes  court,  and  expectation  vayne 

Of  idle  hopes,  which  still  doe  fly  awa)?^, 

Like  empty  shadowes,  did  afflict  my  brayne 

Walkt  forth  to  ease  my  payne  lo 

Along  the  shoare  of  silver  streaming  Themmes  ; 

Whose  rutty  bancke,  the  which  his  river  hemmes, 

Was  paynted  all  with  variable  flowers. 

And  all  the  meades  adornd  with  daintie  gemmes 

Fit  to  decke  maydens  bowres,  15 

And  crowne  their  paramours, 

Against  the  brydale  day,  which  is  not  long : 

Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

There,  in  a  meadow,  by  the  rivers  side, 

A  liocko  of  Xvmphs  I  chaunced  to  espy,  20 

All  lovely  daughters  of  the  flood  thereby. 

With  goodly  greenish  locks,  all  loose  untyde, 

As  each  had  been  a  bryde  ; 

And  each  one  had  a  little  wicker  basket, 

Made  of  fine  twigs,  entrayl^d  curiously,  25 

In  which  they  gathered  flowers  to  fill  their  flaskr-t. 

And  with  fine  fingers  cropt  full  feateouslv 

I'he  tender  stalkes  on  hye. 


SPENSER  41 

Of  every  sort,  which  in  that  meadow  grew 
They  gathered  some  ;  the  violet,  pallid  blew,  30  ' 

The  little  dazie,  that  at  evening  closes, 
The  virgin  lillie,  and  the  primrose  trew, 
With  store  of  vermeil  roses. 
To  deck  their  bridegroomes  posies 

Against  the  brydale  day,  which  was  not  long:  35 

Sweet  Themmes  !   runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

With  that  I  saw  two  Swannes  of  goodly  hewe 
Come  softly  swimming  downe  along  the  lee  : 
Two  fairer  birds  I  yet  did  never  see  ; 

The  snow  which  doth  the  top  of  Pindus  strew  40 

Did  never  whiter  shew. 

Nor  Jove  himselfe  when  he  a  swan  would  be 
For  love  of  Leda,  whiter  did  appear ; 
Yet  Leda  was,  they  say,  as  white  as  he, 
Yet  not  so  white  as  these,  nor  nothing  neare :  45 

So  purely  white  they  were. 

That  even  the  gentle  streame,  the  which  them  bare, 
Seem'd  foule  to  them,  and  bade  his  bi Howes  spare 
To  wet  their  silken  feathers,  lest  they  might 
Soyle  their  fayre  plumes  with  water  not  so  fayre,  50 

And  marre  their  beauties  bright. 
That  shone  as  heavens  light. 
Against  their  brydale  day,  which  was  not  long: 
Sweet  Themmes  !   runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Eftsoones,the  Nymphes,  which  now  had  flowers  their  fill,      55 

Ran  all  in  haste  to  see  that  silver  brood. 

As  they  came  floating  on  the  cristal  flood ; 

Whom,  when  they  sawe,  they  stood  amazed  still. 

Their  wondringeyes  to  fill. 

Them  seem'd  they  never  saw  a  sight  so  fayre  60 

Of  fowles  so  lovely,  that  they  sure  did  deeme 


42  THE    RENAISSANCE 

Them  heavenly  borne,  or  to  be  that  same  payre 
Which  through  the  skie  draw  Venus  silver  teeme  ; 
For  sure  they  did  not  seeme 

To  be  begot  of  any  earthly  seede,  65 

But  rather  angels,  or  of  angels  breede  ; 
Yet  were  they  bred  of  Somers-heat,  they  say, 
In  sweetest  season,  when  each  flower  and  weede 
The  earth  did  fresh  aray  ; 

So  fresh  they  seem'd  as  day,  70 

Even  as  their  brydale  day,  which  was  not  long  : 
Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Then  forth  they  all  out  of  their  baskets  drew 

Great  store  of  flowers,  the  honour  of  the  field, 

That  to  the  sense  did  fragrant  odours  yeild,  75 

All  which  upon  these  goodly  birds  they  threw, 

And  all  the  waves  did  strew, 

That  like  old  Peneus  waters  they  did  seeme, 

When  downe  along  by  pleasant  Tempes  shore, 

Scattred  with  flowres,  through  Thessaly  they  streeme,  80 

That  they  appeare  through  lillies  plenteous  store. 

Like  a  brydes  chamber  flore. 

Two  of  those  Nymphes  mean  while,  two  garlands  bound 

Of  freshest  flowres  which  in  that  mead  they  found. 

The  which  presenting  all  in  trim  array,  85 

Their  snowie  foreheads  therewithall  they  crownd 

Whilst  one  did  sing  this  lay, 

Prepard  against  that  day, 

Against  their  brydale  day,  which  was  not  long : 

Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song.  90 

'  Ye  gentle  birdes  !  the  worlds  faire  ornament, 

And  heavens  glorie,  whom  this  happie  hower 

Doth  leade  unto  your  lovers  blissfull  bower, 

Joy  may  you  have,  and  gentle  hearts  content 

Of  your  loves  couplement !  95 


SPENSER  43 

And  let  faire  Venus,  that  is  Queene  of  Love, 

With  her  heart-quelling  sonne  upon  you  smile, 

Whose  smile  they  say,  hath  vertue  to  remove 

All  loves  dislike,  and  friendships  faultie  guile 

For  ever  to  assoile.  loo 

Let  endlesse  peace  your  steadfast  hearts  accord, 

And  blessed  plentie  wait  upon  your  bord  ; 

And  let  your  bed  with  pleasures  chast  abound, 

That  fruitfule  issue  may  to  you  afford. 

Which  may  your  foes  confound,  105 

And  make  your  joyes  redound 

Upon  your  brydale  day,  which  is  not  long  : 

Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softlie,  till  I  end  my  song.' 

So  ended  she :  and  all  the  rest  around 

To  her  redoubled  that  her  undersong,  no 

Which  said  their  bridale  day  should  not  be  long  : 
And  gentle  Eccho  from  the  neighbour  ground 
Their  accents  did  resound. 
So  forth  these  joyous  birdes  did  passe  along, 
Adowne  the  lee,  that  to  them  murmurde  low,  115 

As  he  would  speake,  but  that  he  lackt  a  tong. 
Yet  did  by  signes  his  glad  affection  show. 
Making  his  streame  run  slow. 
And  all  the  foule  which  in  his  flood  did  dwell 
Gan  flock  about  these  twaine,  that  did  excell  120 

The  rest  so  far  as  Cynthia  doth  shend 
The  lesser  stars.     So  they,  enranged  well, 
Did  on  these  two  attend. 
And  their  best  service  lend 

Against  their  wedding  day,  which  was  not  long :  125 

Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

At  length  they  all  to  mery  London  came. 
To  mery  London,  my  most  kyndly  nurse. 


44  THE   RENAISSANCE 

That  to  me  gave  this  lifes  first  native  sourse, 

Though  from  another  place  I  take  my  name,  130 

An  house  of  auncient  fame  : 

There  when  they  came  whereas  those  bricky  towres 

The  which  on  Themmes  brode,  aged  backe  doe  ryde, 

Where  now  the  studious  lawyers  have  their  bowers,  — 

There  whylome  wont  the  Templer  Knights  to  byde,      135 

Till  they  decayd  through  pride,  — 

Next  whereunto  there  standes  a  stately  place, 

Where  oft  I  gayned  gifts  and  goodly  grace 

Of  that  great  lord,  which  therein  wont  to  dwell, 

Whose  want  too  well  now  feels  my  freendles  case :        140 

But  ah  !  here  fits  not  well 

Olde  woes,  but  joyes,  to  tell, 

Against  the  brydale  daye,  which  is  not  long. 

Sweet  Themmes  !   runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 

Yet  therein  now  doth  lodge  a  noble  peer,  145 

Great  Englands  glory,  and  the  worlds  wide  wonder, 

Whose  dreadfuU  name  late  through  all  Spaine  did  thunder, 

And  Hercules  two  pillors  standing  neere 

Did  make  to  quake  and  feare. 

Faire  branch  of  honour,  flower  of  chevalrie  !  150 

That  fillest  England  with  thy  triumphes  fame, 

Joy  have  thou  of  thy  noble  victorie, 

And  endlesse  happinesse  of  thine  owne  name, 

That  promiseth  the  same  ; 

That  through  thy  prowesse,  and  victorious  amies,         155 

Thy  country  may  be  freed  from  forraine  harmes. 

And  great  Elisaes  glorious  name  may  ring 

Through  al  the  world,  fil'd  with  thy  wide  alarmes, 

Which  some  brave  Muse  may  sing 

To  ages  following.  160 

Upon  the  brydale  day,  which  is  not  long  : 

Sweet  Themmes  I  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song. 


SPENSER  45 

From  those  high  towers  this  noble  lord  issuing, 

Like  radiant  Hesper,  when  his  golden  hayre 

In  th'  ocean  billowes  he  hath  bathed  fayre,  165 

Descended  to  the  river's  open  vewing, 

With  a  great  traine  ensuing. 

Above  the  rest  were  goodly  to  bee  seen£ 

Two  gentle  Knights  of  lovely  face  and  feature, 

Beseeming  well  the  bower  of  any  queene,  170 

With  gifts  of  wit,  and  ornaments  of  nature 

Fit  for  so  goodly  stature, 

That  like  the  twins  of  Jove  they  seem'd  in  sight. 

Which  decke  the  bauldricke  of  the  heavens  bright. 

They  two,  forth  pacing  to  the  rivers  side,  175 

Receiv'd  those  two  faire  brides,  their  loves  delight, 

(Which,  at  th'  appointed  tyde. 

Each  one  did  make  his  bryde) 

Against  their  brydale  day,  which  is  not  long  : 

Sweet  Themmes  !  runne  softly,  till  I  end  my  song,    iSo 

THE   FAERIE   QUEENE 
BOOK   II,   CANTO  VI 

Guyon  is  of  immodest  Merth 
Led  into  loose  desyre; 

Fights  with  Cymochles,  whiles  his  bro- 
ther burns  in  furious  fyre. 


A  HARDER  lesson  to  learne  Continence 
In  joyous  pleasure  then  in  grievous  paine ; 
For  sweetnesse  doth  allure  the  weaker  sence 
So  strongly,  that  uneathes  it  can  refraine 
From  that  which  feeble  nature  covets  faine : 
But  griefe  and  wrath,  that  be  her  enemies 
And  foes  of  life,  she  better  can  abstaine  : 


46  THE   RENAISSANCE 

Yet  vertue  vauntes  in  both  her  victories, 

And  Guyon  in  them  all  shewes  goodly  maysteries. 

II 

Whom  bold  Cymochles  travailing  to  finde,  lo 

With  cruell  purpose  bent  to  wreake  on  him 
The  wrath  which  Atin  kindled  in  his  mind, 
Came  to  a  river,  by  whose  utmost  brim 
Wayting  to  passe,  he  saw  whereas  did  swim 
Along  the  shore,  as  swift  as  glaunce  of  eye,  15 

A  little  Gondelay,  bedecked  trim 
With  boughes  and  arbours  woven  cunningly. 
That  like  a  little  forest  seemed  outwardly. 

Ill 

And  therein  sate  a  Lady  fresh  and  fayre, 
Making  sweet  solace  to  herselfe  alone  :  20 

Sometimes  she  song  as  lowd  as  larke  in  ayre. 
Sometimes  she  laught,  as  merry  as  Pope  Jone  ; 
Yet  was  there  not  wdth  her  else  any  one. 
That  to  her  might  move  cause  of  meriment : 
Matter  of  merth  enough,  though  there  were  none,  25 

She  could  devise ;  and  thousand  waies  invent 
To  feede  her  foolish  humour  and  vaine  jolliment. 


Which  when  far  off  Cymochles  heard  and  saw. 
He  lowdly  cald  to  such  as  were  abord 

The  little  barke  unto  the  shore  to  draw,  30 

And  him  to  ferry  over  that  deepe  ford. 
The  merry  mariner  unto  his  word 
Soone  hearkned,  and  her  painted  bote  streightway 
Turnd  to  the  shore,  where  that  same  warlike  Lord 
She  in  receiv'd ;  but  Atin  by  no  way  35 

She  would  admit,  albe  the  knight  her  much  did  i  r.  v. 


SPENSER  47 


Eftsoones  her  shallow  ship  away  did  slide, 
More  swift  then  swallow  sheres  the  liquid  skye, 
Withouten  oare  or  Pilot  it  to  guide, 

Or  winged  canvas  with  the  wind  to  fly :  4° 

Onely  she  turnd  a  pin,  and  by  and  by 
It  cut  away  upon  the  yielding  wave, 
Ne  cared  she  her  course  for  to  apply  ; 
For  it  was  taught  the  way  which  she  would  have. 
And  both  from  rocks  and  flats  it  selfe  could  wisely  save.       45 


VI 

And  all  the  way  the  wanton  Damsell  found 
New  merth  her  passenger  to  entertaine  ; 
For  she  in  pleasaunt  purpose  did  abound, 
And  greatly  joyed  merry  tales  to  faine, 

Of  which  a  store-house  did  with  her  remaine :  5° 

Yet  seemed,  nothing  well  they  her  became  ; 
For  all  her  wordes  she  drownd  with  laughter  vaine. 
And  wanted  grace  in  utt'ring  of  the  same. 
That  turned  all  her  pleasaunce  to  a  scoffing  game. 


VII 

And  other  whiles  vaine  toyes  she  would  devize,  55 

As  her  fantasticke  wit  did  most  delight : 
Sometimes  her  head  she  fondly  would  agnize 
With  gaudy  girlonds,  or  fresh  flowrets  dight 
About  her  necke,  or  rings  of  rushes  plight : 
Sometimes,  to  do  him  laugh,  she  would  assay  6o 

To  laugh  at  shaking  of  the  leaves  light 
Or  to  behold  the  water  worke  and  play 
About  her  little  frigot,  therein  making  way. 


48  THE    RENAISSANCE 

VIII 

Her  light  behaviour  and  loose  dalliaunce 
Gave  wondrous  great  contentment  to  the  knight,  65 

That  of  his  way  he  had  no  sovenaunce, 
Nor  care  of  vow'd  revenge  and  cruell  fight, 
But  to  weake  wench  did  yield  his  martiall  might : 
So  easie  was  to  quench  his  flamed  minde 

With  one  sweete  drop  of  sensuall  delight,  70 

So  easie  is  t'appease  the  stormy  winde 
Of  malice  in  the  calme  of  pleasaunt  woman-kind. 


Diverse  discourses  in  their  way  they  spent; 
Mongst  which  Cymochles  of  her  questioned 
Both  what  she  was,  and  what  that  usage  ment,  75 

Which  in  her  cott  she  daily  practized  ? 
'Vaine  man,'  (saide  she)  '  that  wouldest  be  reckoned 
A  straunger  in  thy  home,  and  ignoraunt 
Of  Phaedria,  (for  so  my  name  is  red) 

Of  Phsedria,  thine  owne  fellow  servaunt ;  80 

For  thou  to  serve  Acrasia  thy  selfe  doest  vaunt. 


'  In  this  wide  Inland  sea,  that  hight  by  name 
The  Idle  lake,  my  wandring  ship  I  row, 
That  knowes  her  port,  and  thither  sayles  by  ayme, 
Ne  care,  ne  feare  I  how  the  wind  do  blow,  85 

Or  whether  swift  I  wend,  or  whether  slow  : 
Both  slow  and  swift  alike  do  serve  my  tourne  ; 
Ne  swelling  Neptune  ne  lowd  thundring  Jove 
Can  chaunge  my  cheare,  or  make  me  ever  mourne  : 
My  little  boat  can  safely  passe  this  perilous  bourne.'  9° 


SPENSER  49 

XI 

Whiles  thus  she  talked,  and  whiles  thus  she  toyd, 
They  were  far  past  the  passage  which  he  spake, 
And  come  unto  an  Island  waste  and  voyd, 
That  floated  in  the  midst  of  that  great  lake  ; 
There  her  small  Gondelay  her  port  did  make,  95 

And  that  gay  payre,  issewing  on  the  shore, 
Disburdned  her.     Their  way  they  forward  take 
Into  the  land  that  lay  them  faire  before, 
Whose  pleasaunce  she  him  shewd,  and  plentifull  great  store. 


XII 

It  was  a  chosen  plott  of  fertile  land,  loo 

Emongst  wide  waves  sett,  like  a  litle  nest, 
As  if  it  had  by  Natures  cunning  hand 
Bene  choycely  picked  out  from  all  the  rest. 
And  laid  forth  for  ensample  of  the  best : 

No  daintie  flowre  or  herbe  that  growes  on  grownd,  105 

No  arborett  with  painted  blossomes  drest 
And  smelling  sweete,  but  there  it  might  be  fownd 
To  bud  out  faire,  and  throwe  her  sweete  smels  al  arownd. 


XIII 

No  tree  whose  braunches  did  not  bravely  spring ; 
No  braunch  whereon  a  fine  bird  did  not  sitt  ;  no 

No  bird  but  did  her  shrill  notes  sweetely  sing ; 
No  song  but  did  containe  a  lovely  ditt. 
Trees,  braunches,  birds,  and  songs,  were  framed  fitt 
For  to  allure  fraile  mind  to  carelesse  ease  : 
Carelesse  the  man  soone  woxe,  and  his  weake  witt  "5 

Was  overcome  of  thing  that  did  him  please  ; 
So  pleased  did  his  wrathful!  purpose  faire  appease. 

ENG.    POEMS  —  4 


50  THE   RENAISSANCE 

XIV 

Thus  when  shee  had  his  eyes  and  sences  fed 
With  false  delights,  and  fild  with  pleasures  vayn, 
Into  a  shady  dale  she  soft  him  led,  120 

And  layd  him  downe  upon  a  grassy  playn  ; 
And  her  sweete  self  without  dread  or  disdayn 
She  sett  beside,  laying  his  head  disarmd 
In  her  loose  lap,  it  softly  to  sustayn, 

Where  soone  he  slumbred  fearing  not  be  harmd  :  125 

The  whiles  with  a  love  lay  she  thus  him  sweetly  charmd. 


XV 

'  Behold,  O  man  !  that  toilesome  paings  doest  take, 
The  flowrs,  the  fields,  and  all  that  pleasaunt  growes, 
How  they  them  selves  doe  thine  ensample  make. 
Whiles  nothing  envious  nature  them  forth  throwes  130 

Out  of  her  fruitfull  lap  ;  how  no  man  knowes. 
They  spring,  they  bud,  they  blossome  fresh  and  faire, 
And  decke  the  world  with  their  rich  pompous  showes  ; 
Yet  no  man  for  them  taketh  paines  or  care. 
Yet  no  man  to  them  can  his  carefull  paines  compare.  135 


XVI 

*  The  lilly.  Lady  of  the  flowring  field, 
The  flowre-deluce,  her  lovly  Paramoure, 
Bid  thee  to  them  thy  fruitlesse  labors  yield, 
And  soone  leave  off  this  toylsome  weary  stoure  : 
Loe,  loe  !  how  brave  she  decks  her  bounteous  boure,  140 

With  silkin  curtens  and  gold  coverletts. 
Therein  to  shrowd  her  sumptuous  Belamoure  ; 
Yet  nether  spinnes  nor  cards,  ne  cares  nor  fretts, 
But  to  her  mother  Nature  all  her  care  she  letts. 


SIDNEY  5 1 

XVII 

'  Why  then  doest  thou,  O  man  !  that  of  them  all  145 

Art  Lord,  and  eke  of  nature  Soveraine, 
Wilfully  make  thyselfe  a  wretched  thrall. 
And  waste  thy  joyous  howres  in  needelesse  paine, 
Seeking  for  daunger  and  adventures  vaine  ? 
What  bootes  it  al  to  have,  and  nothing  use  ?  150 

Who  shall  him  rew  that  swimming  in  the  maine 
Will  die  for  thirst,  and  water  doth  refuse  ? 
Refuse  such  fruitlesse  toile,  and  present  pleasures  chuse.' 

XVIII 

By  this  she  had  him  lulled  fast  asleepe, 
That  of  no  worldly  thing  he  care  did  take  :  155 

Then  she  with  liquors  strong  his  eies  did  steepe, 
That  nothing  should  him  hastily  awake. 
So  she  him  lefte,  and  did  her  selfe  betake 
Unto,  her  boat  again,  with  which  she  clefte 
The  slouthfull  wave  of  that  great  griesy  lake  :  160 

Soone  shee  that  Island  far  behind  her  lefte. 
And  now  is  come  to  that  same  place  where  first  she  wefte. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY 

1554-1586 

A  DITTY 

My  true  love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his, 
By  just  exchange  one  for  the  other  given  : 
I  hold  his  dear,  and  mine  he  cannot  miss, 
There  never  was  a  bargain  better  driven : 
My  true  love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his. 


52  THE    RENAISSANCE 

His  heart  in  me  keeps  him  and  me  in  one, 

My  heart  in  him  his  thoughts  and  senses  guides : 

He  loves  my  heart,  for  once  it  was  his  own, 

I  cherish  his  because  in  me  it  bides : 

My  true  love  hath  my  heart,  and  I  have  his.  lo 

SONNET  XXXI 

With  how  sad  steps,  O  Moon,  thou  climb 'st  the  skies ! 

How  silently,  and  with  how  wan  a  face  ! 

What,  may  it  be  that  even  in  heav'nly  place 

That  busy  archer  his  sharp  arrows  tries  ! 

Sure,  if  that  long-with-love-acquainted  eyes  15 

Can  judge  of  love,  thou  feel'st  a  lover's  case, 

I  read  it  in  thy  looks  ;  thy  languished  grace, 

To  me,  that  feel  the  like,  thy  state  descries. 

Then,  ev'n  of  fellowship,  O  Moon,  tell  me. 

Is  constant  love  deem'd  there  but  want  of  wit?  20 

Are  beauties  there  as  proud  as  here  they  be  ? 

Do  they  above  love  to  be  lov'd,  and  yet 

Those  lovers  scorn  whom  that  love  doth  possess  ? 

Do  they  call  virtue  there  ungratefulness  ? 


JOHN  LYLY 

iS54?-i6o6 
APELLES'  SONG 

[From  Alexander  atid  Cat/ipaspe] 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  played 

At  cards  for  kisses  ;  Cupid  paid. 

He  stakes  his  quiver,  bow  and  arrows. 

His  mother's  doves,  and  team  of  sparrows ; 

Loses  them  too  ;  then  down  he  throws 


DRAYTON  53 


The  coral  of  his  lip,  the  rose 

Growing  on's  cheek  (but  none  knows  how), 

With  these,  the  crystal  of  his  brow, 

And  then  the  dimple  of  his  chin ; 

All  these  did  my  Campaspe  win. 

At  last  he  set  her  both  his  eyes, 

She  won,  and  Cupid  blind  did  rise. 

O  Love  !  has  she  done  this  to  thee  ? 

What  shall,  alas  1  become  of  me  ? 


MICHAEL  DRAYTON 

SONNET  LXI 

Since  there's  no  help,  come  let  us  kiss  and  part ! 

Nay,  I  have  done,  you  get  no  more  of  me  ; 

And  I  am  glad,  yea,  glad  with  all  my  heart, 

That  thus  so  cleanly  I  myself  can  free ; 

Shake  hands  forever,  cancel  all  our  vows, 

And  when  we  meet  at  any  time  again. 

Be  it  not  seen  in  either  of  our  brows 

That  we  one  jot  of  former  love  retain. 

Now  at  the  last  gasp  of  Love's  latest  breath, 

When,  his  pulse  failing,  Passion  speechless  lies, 

When  Faith  is  kneeling  by  his  bed  of  death. 

And  Innocence  is  closing  up  his  eyes,  — 

Now  if  thou  would'st,  when  all  have  given  him  over. 
From  death  to  life  thou  might'st  him  yet  recover. 


54  THE  RENAISSANCE 

TO  THE  CAMBRO-BRITONS  AND  THEIR  HARP,  HIS 
BALLAD  OF  AGINCOURT 

Fair  stood  the  wind  for  France, 
When  we  our  sails  advance, 
Nor  now  to  prove  our  chance 

Longer  will  tarry ; 
But  putting  to  the  main,  5 

At  Caux,  the  mouth  of  Seine, 
With  all  his  martial  train, 

Landed  King  Harry. 

And  taking  many  a  fort, 

Furnished  in  warlike  sort,  lo 

Marcheth  tow'rds  Agincourt 

In  happy  hour ; 
Skirmishing  day  by  day, 
With  those  that  stopp'd  his  way. 
Where  the  French  gen'ral  lay  15 

With  all  his  power. 

Which  in  his  height  of  pride, 
King  Henry  to  deride. 
His  ransom  to  provide 

To  the  king  sending.  20 

Which  he  neglects  the  while, 
As  from  a  nation  vile. 
Yet  with  an  angry  smile 

Their  fall  portending. 

And  turning  to  his  men,  25 

Quoth  our  brave  Henry  then, 
'  Though  they  to  one  be  ten. 

Be  not  amazed. 
Yet  have  we  well  begun, 


DRAYTON  55 

Battles  so  bravely  won,  30 

Have  ever  to  the  sun 
By  fame  been  raised. 

'  And  for  myself '  (quoth  he), 

'  This  my  full  rest  shall  be, 

England  ne'er  mourn  for  me,  35 

Nor  more  esteem  me. 
Victor  I  will  remain. 
Or  on  this  earth  lie  slain. 
Never  shall  she  sustain 

Loss  to  redeem  me.  40 

'  Poitiers  and  Cressy  tell, 
When  most  their  pride  did  swell, 
Under  our  swords  they  fell, 

No  less  our  skill  is, 
Than  when  our  grandsire  great,  45 

Claiming  the  regal  seat, 
By  many  a  warlike  feat 

Lopp'd  the  French  lilies.' 

The  Duke  of  York  so  dread 

The  eager  vanward  led,  50 

With  the  main,  Henry  sped. 

Amongst  his  hench-men. 
Exeter  had  the  rear, 
A  braver  man  not  there, 
O  Lord,  how  hot  they  were,  55 

On  the  false  Frenchmen  ! 

They  now  to  fight  are  gone. 
Armor  on  armor  shone, 
Drum  now  to  drum  did  groan. 

To  hear  was  wonder  ;  60 


56  THE   RENAISSANCE 

That  with  the  cries  they  make. 
The  very  earth  did  shake, 
Trumpet  to  trumpet  spake, 
Thunder  to  thunder. 

Well  it  thine  age  became,  65 

O  noble  Erpingham, 
Which  didst  the  signal  aim 

To  our  hid  forces  ; 
When  from  a  meadow  by, 

Like  a  storm  suddenly,  70 

The  English  archery 

Stuck  the  French  horses. 

With  Spanish  yew  so  strong. 

Arrows  a  cloth-yard  long, 

That  like  to  serpents  stung,  75 

Piercing  the  w^eather  ; 
None  from  his  fellow  starts, 
But  playing  manly  parts, 
And  like  true  English  hearts, 

Stuck  close  together.  80 

When  down  their  bows  they  threw, 
And  forth  their  bilbos  drew. 
And  on  the  French  they  flew, 

Not  one  was  tardy  ; 
Arms  from  the  shoulders  sent,  85 

Scalps  to  the  teeth  were  rent, 
Down  the  French  peasants  went, 

Our  men  were  hardy. 


This  while  our  noble  king. 
His  broad  sword  brandishing, 
Down  the  French  host  did  ding, 
As  to  o'erwhelm  it. 


90 


DRAYTON  \7 

And  many  a  deep  wound  lent, 
His  arms  with  blood  besprent, 
And  many  a  cruel  dent  95 

Bruised  his  helmet. 

Gloucester,  that  duke  so  good, 
Next  to  the  royal  blood, 
For  famous  England  stood. 

With  his  brave  brother  ;  loo 

Clarence,  in  steel  so  bright. 
Though  but  a  maiden  knight, 
Yet  in  that  furious  fight 

Scarce  such  another. 

Warwick  in  blood  did  wade,  105 

Oxford  the  foe  invade, 
And  cruel  slaughter  made, 

Still  as  they  ran  up ; 
Suffolk  his  axe  did  ply, 

Beaumont  and  Willoughby,  no 

Bare  them  right  doughtily, 

Ferrers  and  Fanhope. 

Upon  Saint  Crispin's  day 

Fought  was  this  noble  fray. 

Which  fame  did  not  delay  115 

To  England  to  carry ; 
O  when  shall  English  men. 
With  such  acts  fill  a  pen. 
Or  England  breed  again 

Such  a  King  Harry  ?  120 


58  THE   RENAISSANCE 

WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE 

1564-1616 
SONNETS 

XXIX 

When  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes, 
I  all  alone  beweep  my  outcast  state 
And  trouble  deaf  heaven  with  my  bootless  cries 
And  look  upon  myself  and  curse  my  fate, 
Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope, 
Featured  like  him,  like  him  with  friends  possess'd, 
Desiring  this  man's  art  and  that  man's  scope, 
With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  least ; 
Yet  in  these  thoughts  myself  almost  despising, 
Haply  I  think  on  thee,  and  then  my  state, 
Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 
From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate  ; 
For  thy  sweet  love  remember'd  such  wealth  brings 
That  then  I  scorn  to  change  my  state  with  kings. 

XXX 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 

And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste: 

Then  can  I  drown  an  eye,  unused  to  flow, 

For  precious  friends  hid  in  death's  dateless  night, 

And  weep  afresh  love's  long  since  cancell'd  woe, 

And  moan  the  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight: 

Then  can  I  grieve  at  grievances  foregone, 

And  heavily  from  woe  to  woe  tell  o'er 


SHAKESPEARE  59 

The  sad  account  of  fore-bemoaned  moan, 
Which  I  new  pay  as  if  not  paid  before. 

But  if  the  while  I  think  on  thee,  dear  friend, 

All  losses  are  restored  and  sorrows  end. 

XXXIII 

Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen 

Flatter  the  mountain-tops  with  sovereign  eye. 

Kissing  with  golden  face  the  meadows  green. 

Gilding  pale  streams  with  heavenly  alchemy ; 

Anon  permit  the  basest  clouds  to  ride  5 

With  ugly  rack  on  his  celestial  face, 

And  from  the  forlorn  world  his  visage  hide. 

Stealing  unseen  to  west  with  this  disgrace  : 

Even  so  my  sun  one  early  morn  did  shine 

With  all-triumphant  splendor  on  my  brow  ;  lo 

But,  out,  alack  !  he  was  but  one  hour  mine  ; 

The  region  cloud  hath  masked  him  from  me  now. 

Yet  him  for  this  my  love  no  whit  disdaineth  ; 

Suns  of  the  world  may  stain  when  heaven's  sun  staineth. 

LXXIII 

That  time  of  year  thou  mayst  in  me  behold 

When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 

Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 

Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang. 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  twilight  of  such  day  5 

As  after  sunset  fadeth  in  the  west, 

Which  by  and  by  black  night  doth  take  away. 

Death's  second  self,  that  seals  up  all  in  rest. 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  glowing  of  such  fire 

That  on  the  ashes  of  his  youth  doth  lie,  lo 

As  the  death  bed  whereon  it  must  expire 

Consumed  with  that  which  it  was  nourish 'd  by. 


6o  THE   RENAISSANCE 

This  thou  perceivest,  which  makes  thy  love  more  strong, 
To  love  that  well  which  thou  must  leave  ere  long. 

cxvi 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 

Admit  impediments.     Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove  : 

O,  no  !  it  is  an  ever-fixed  mark 

That  looks  on  tempests,  and  is  never  shaken  ; 

It  is  the  star  to  everj^  wandering  bark, 

Whose  worth's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 

Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come  ; 

Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 

But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom. 

If  this  be  error,  and  upon  me  proved, 

I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  loved. 

A  MADRIGAL 

[From  The  Passionate  Pilgritft] 

Crabbed  Age  and  Youth 
Cannot  live  together : 
••  Youth  is  full  of  pleasance, 

Age  is  full  of  care  ; 
Youth  like  summer  morn, 
Age  like  winter  weather  ; 
Youth  like  summer  brave, 
Age  like  winter  bare. 
Youth  is  full  of  sport. 
Age's  breath  is  short ; 
Youth  is  nimble,  Age  is  lame : 
Youth  is  hot  and  bold, 


SHAKESPEARE  6 1 

Age  is  weak  and  eold  ; 

Youth  is  wild,  and  Age  is  tame:  — 

Age,  I  do  ahhor  thee  ;  15 

Youth,  I  do  adore  thee  ; 

O  !  my  Love,  my  Love  is  young ! 

Age,  I  do  defy  thee  — 

O,  sweet  shepherd,  hie  thee. 

For  methinks  thou  stay'st  too  long.  20 

WHEN    ICICLES   HANG   BY   THE  WALL 

[From  Love's  Labour'' s  Lost\ 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall. 

And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail, 

And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail, 

When  blood  is  nipp'd  and  ways  be  foul,  g 

Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl, 
Tu-whit,  tu-who ! 

A  merry  note. 

While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  pot. 

When  all  aloud  the  wind  doth  blow  10 

And  coughing  drowns  the  parson's  saw 

And  birds  sit  brooding  in  the  snow 
And  Marian's  nose  looks  red  and  raw, 

When  roasted  crabs  hiss  in  the  bowl, 

Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl,  15 

Tu-whit,  tu-who ! 

A  merry  note, 

While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  pot. 


62  THE   RENAISSANCE 

TELL  ME,  WHERE  IS  FANCY  BRED 

[From   The  Mei-chant  of  V'eiiice^ 

Tell  me,  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 
Reply,  reply. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes,  5 

With  gazing  fed  ;  and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  where  it  lies : 

Let  us  all  ring  fancy's  knell ; 

I'll  begin  it, —  Ding,  dong,  bell. 

Ding,  dong,  bell.  lo 

UNDER  THE  GREENWOOD   TREE 

[From  As  Yon  Like  It\ 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 

Who  loves  to  lie  with  me. 

And  turn  his  merry  note 

Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat. 
Come  hither  !  come  hither  !  come  hither  1  5 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy, 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun, 

And  loves  to  live  i'  the  sun,  10 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats, 

And  pleased  with  what  he  gets, 
Come  hither  !  come  hither  !  come  hither  ! 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy,  15 

But  winter  and  rousrh  weather. 


SHAKESPEARE  63 

BLOW,  BLOW,  THOU  WINTER  WIND 

[From  As  You  Like  It] 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind ! 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude  ; 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 

Because  thou  art  not  seen,  5 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 
Heigh  ho  !  sing  heigh  ho  !  unto  the  green  holly  : 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly  : 
Then,  heigh  ho,  the  holly  ! 

This  life  is  most  jolly.  10 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky ! 
That  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot : 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp  15 

As  friend  remembered  not. 
Heigh  ho  !  sing  heigh  ho !  etc. 

SIGH  NO  MORE,  LADIES 

[From  Much  Ado  about  Nothing] 

Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  sigh  no  more  1 

Men  were  deceivers  ever, 
One  foot  in  sea  and  one  on  shore ; 

To  one  thing  constant  never : 
Then  sigh  not  so,  but  let  them  go,  5 

And  be  you  blithe  and  bonny, 
Converting  all  your  sounds  of  woe 

Into  Hey  nonny,  nonny  ! 


64  THE    RENAISSANCE 

Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  moe 

Of  dumps  so  dull  and  heavy !  10 

The  fraud  of  men  was  ever  so, 

Since  summer  first  was  leavy : 
Then  sigh  not  so,  but  let  them  go. 

And  be  you  blithe  and  bonny, 
Converting  all  your  sounds  of  woe  15 

Into  Hey  nonny,  nonny  ! 

O  MISTRESS  MIxNE 

[From    Ttvelfth  Night'] 

O  Mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming  ? 
O,  stay  and  hear,  your  true-love's  coming. 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low : 
Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting. 
Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting,  5 

Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 

What  is  love  ?  'tis  not  hereafter  ; 
Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter  ; 

What's  to  come  is  still  unsure : 
In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty  ;  10 

Then  come  kiss  me,  sweet-and-twenty, 

Youth's  a  stuff  will  not  indure. 


TAKE,   O   TAKE   THOSE   LIPS    AWAY 

[From  Measure  for  Measure] 

Take,  O  take  those  lips  away. 
That  so  sweetly  were  forsworn  ; 

And  those  eyes,  the  break  of  day. 
Lights  that  do  mislead  the  morn  : 


SHAKESPEARE  65 

But  my  kisses  bring  again,  S 

Bring  again, 
Seals  of  love,  but  sealed  in  vain, 

Sealed  in  vain. 

CUP   US    TILL   THE   WORLD   GOES    ROUND 

[From  A7ito!!y  and  Cleopatra\ 

Come  thou  monarch  of  the  vine, 

Plumpy  Bacchus  with  pink  eyne  ! 

In  thy  fats  our  cares  be  drown 'd, 

With  thy  grapes  our  hairs  be  crown'd  ; 

Cup  us  till  the  world  goes  round,  5 

Cup  us  till  the  world  goes  round  ! 

HARK,  HARK!   THE  LARK! 

[From  Cymheliiie\ 

Hark,  hark !  the  lark  at  heaven's  gate  sings, 

And  Phoebus  'gins  arise. 
His  steeds  to  water  at  those  springs 

On  chaliced  flowers  that  lies  ; 
And  winking  Mary-buds  begin  S 

To  ope  their  golden  eyes  ; 
With  every  thing  that  pretty  is. 

My  lady  sweet,  arise  ! 
Arise,  arise  ! 

FEAR    NO    MORE   THE   HEAT   O'   THE   SUN 

[From  Cyiiibeline\ 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun. 
Nor  the  furious  winter's  rages  ; 

ENG.  POEMS — 5 


66  THE    RENAISSANCE 

Thou  thy  worldly  task  hast  done, 

Home  art  gone,  and  ta'en  thy  wages  : 
Golden  lads  and  girls  all  must,  5 

As  chimney-sweepers,  come  to  dust. 

Fear  no  more  the  frown  o'  the  great ; 

Thou  art  past  the  tyrant's  stroke  ; 
Care  no  more  to  clothe  and  eat ; 

To  thee  the  reed  is  as  the  oak :  lo 

The  Sceptre,  Learning,  Physic,  must 
All  follow  this,  and  come  to  dust. 

Fear  no  more  the  lightning-flash. 

Nor  the  all-dreaded  thunder-stone  ; 

Fear  not  slander,  censure  rash  ;  15 

Thou  hast  finish'd  joy  and  moan  : 

All  lovers  young,  all  lovers  must 

Consign  to  thee,  and  come  to  dust. 

No  exorciser  harm  thee  ! 

Nor  no  witchcraft  charm  thee  !  20 

Ghost  unlaid  forbear  thee  ! 

Nothing  ill  come  near  thee  ! 
Quiet  consummation  have  ; 
And  renowned  be  thy  grave  ! 

WHERE   THE   BEE   SUCKS 

[From  The  Tempest] 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I : 

In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie ; 

There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry. 

On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly 

After  summer  merrily.  5 

Merrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  now. 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough. 


CAMPION  6"] 

A    SEA   DIRGE 

[From  The  Tetnpest] 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies : 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made  ; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes  ; 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea  change  5 

Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell : 

Ding-dong  ! 
Hark  !  now  I  hear  them,  — 

Ding,  dong,  bell !  lo 


THOMAS  CAMPION 

Died  1619 

FORTUNATI   NIMIUM 

Jack  and  Joan,  they  think  no  ill, 

But  loving  five,  and  merry  still ; 

Do  their  week-day's  work,  and  pray 

Devoutly  on  the  holy-day  : 

Skip  and  trip  it  on  the  green, 

And  help  to  choose  the  Summer  Queen  ; 

Lash  out  at  a  country  feast 

Their  silver  penny  with  the  best. 

Well  can  they  judge  of  nappy  ale, 
And  tell  at  large  a  winter  tale  ; 
Climb  up  to  the  apple  loft, 
And  turn  the  crabs  till  they  be  soft. 
Tib  is  all  the  father's  joy, 


68  THE   RENAISSANCE 

And  little  Tom  the  mother's  boy  :  — 

All  their  pleasure  is,  content,  15 

And  care,  to  pay  their  yearly  rent. 

Joan  can  call  by  name  her  cows 

And  deck  her  windows  with  green  boughs : 

She  can  wreaths  and  tutties  make, 

And  trim  with  plums  a  bridal  cake.  20 

Jack  knows  what  brings  gain  or  loss. 

And  his  long  flail  can  stoutly  toss  : 

Makes  the  hedge  which  others  break, 

And  ever  thinks  what  he  doth  speak. 

Now,  you  courtly  dames  and  knights,  25 

That  study  only  strange  delights, 

Though  you  scorn  the  homespun  gray. 

And  revel  in  your  rich  array  ; 

Though  your  tongues  dissemble  deep 

And  can  your  heads  from  danger  keep ;  30 

Yet,  for  all  your  pomp  and  train, 

Securer  lives  the  silly  swain  ! 


BEN   JONSON 

SONG  — TO  CELIA 

[From  The  Forest'] 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 
And  I  will  pledge  with  mine ; 

Or  leave  a  kiss  but  in  the  cup, 
And  I'll  not  look  for  wine. 

The  thirst  that  from  the  soul  doth  rise 


JONSON  69 

Doth  ask  a  drink  divine  ; 
But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sup, 
I  woukl  not  change  for  thine. 

I  sent  thee  late  a  rosy  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honouring  thee  10 

As  giving  it  a  hope,  that  there 

It  could  not  withered  be  ; 
But  thou  thereon  didst  only  breathe 

And  sent'st  it  back  to  me  ; 
Since  when  it  grows,  and  smells,  I  swear,  15 

Not  of  itself,  but  thee  ! 


HYMN    TO    DIANA 

Queen  and  Huntress,  chaste  and  fair, 

Now  the  sun  is  laid  to  sleep, 
Seated  in  thy  silver  chair. 

State  in  wonted  manner  keep: 

Hesperus  entreats  thy  light,  5 

Goddess  excellently  bright. 

Earth,  let  not  thy  envious  shade 

Dare  itself  to  interpose  ; 
Cynthia's  shining  orb  was  made 

Heaven  to  clear  when  day  did  close :  10 

Bless  us  then  with  wished  sight, 
Goddess  excellently  bright. 

Lay  thy  bow  of  pearl  apart 

And  thy  crystal-shining  quiver  ; 
Give  unto  the  flying  hart  15 

Space  to  breathe,  how  short  soever  : 
Thou  that  mak'st  a  day  of  night. 
Goddess  excellently  bright. 


70  PURITAN  AND   CAVALIER 

PURITAN   AND    CAVALIER 

JOHN    DONNE 

I573-I63I 

A  HYMN  .TO  GOD   THE   FATHER 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 

Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  were  done  before  ? 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin,  through  which  I  run 
And  do  run  still,  though  still  I  do  deplore  ? 

When  Thou  hast  done,  Thou  hast  not  done  ;  5 

For  I  have  more. 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  have  won 
Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sins  their  door  ? 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 

A  year  or  two,  but  wallow'd  in,  a  score  ?  10 

When  Thou  hast  done.  Thou  hast  not  done; 
For  I  have  more. 

I  have  a  sin  of  fear,  that  when  I've  spun 
My  last  thread,  I  shall  perish  on  the  shore  ; 

But  swear  by  Thyself,  that  at  my  death  Thy  Son  15 

Shall  shine,  as  He  shines  now  and  heretofore : 

And  having  done  that,  Thou  hast  done  ; 
I  fear  no  more. 

ON    THE   SACRAMENT 

He  was  the  Word  that  spake  it ; 
He  took  the  bread  and  brake  it ; 
And  what  that  Word  did  make  it 
I  do  believe  and  take  it. 


HERRICK  71 

ROBERT    HERRICK 

1591-1674 

THE  ARGUMENT  OF  THE   HESPERIDES 

I  SING  of  brooks,  of  blossoms,  birds,  and  bowers, 

Of  April,  May,  of  June  and  July  flowers  ; 

I  sing  of  May-poles,  hock-carts,  wassails,  wakes. 

Of  bridegrooms,  brides  and  of  their  bridal  cakes  ; 

I  write  of  youth,  of  love,  and  have  access  5 

By  these  to  sing  of  cleanly  wantonness  ; 

I  sing  of  dews,  of  rains,  and  piece  by  piece 

Of  balm,  of  oil,  of  spice  and  ambergris ; 

I  sing  of  times  trans-shifting,  and  I  write 

How  roses  first  came  red  and  lilies  white  ;  10 

I  write  of  groves,  of  twilights,  and  I  sing 

The  court  of  Mab,  and  of  the  fairy  king ; 

I  write  of  hell ;  I  sing  (and  ever  shall) 

Of  heaven,  and  hope  to  have  it  after  all. 

TO    DAFFODILS 

Fair  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon  ; 
As  yet  the  early-rising  sun 
Has  not  attained  his  noon. 

Stay,  stay,  i 

Until  the  hasting  day 

Has  run 
But  to  the  even-song  ! 
And,  having  prayed  together,  we 

Will  go  with  you  along.  i' 

We  have  short  time  to  stay,  as  you. 
We  have  as  short  a  spring ; 


72  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay, 
As  you,  or  any  thing. 
We  die 
As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 

Away, 
Like  to  the  summer's  rain. 
Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning's  dew, 
Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 


GEORGE    HERBERT 

1593-1633 

VIRTUE 

Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  cahu,  so  bright, 

The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky  ! 
The  dew  shall  weep  thy  fall  to-night ; 
For  thou  must  die. 

S\veet  rose,  whose  hue,  angry  and  brave, 

Bids  the  rash  gazer  wipe  his  eye. 
Thy  root  is  ever  in  its  grave, 
And  thou  must  die. 

Sweet  spring,  full  of  sweet  days  and  roses, 

A  box  where  sweets  compacted  lie, 
My  music  shows  ye  have  your  closes, 
And  all  must  die. 

Only  a  sweet  and  virtuous  soul. 

Like  seasoned  timber,  never  gives, 
But  though  the  whole  world  turn  to  coal. 
Then  chiefly  lives. 


15 


WALLER  73 

EDMUND   WALLER 

1606-1687 

OLD   AGE 

[From  Divine  Love'] 

The  seas  are  quiet  when  the  winds  give  o'er  ! 

So  cahn  are  we  when  passions  are  no  more  ! 

For  then  we  know  how  vain  it  was  to  boast 

Of  fleeting  things  too  certain  to  be  lost. 

Clouds  of  affection  from  our  younger  eyes  5 

Conceal  that  emptiness  which  age  descries. 

The  soul's  dark  cottage,  battered  and  decayed, 

Lets  in  new  light  thro'  chinks  that  time  has  made: 

Stronger  by  weakness  wiser  men  become 

As  they  draw  near  to  their  eternal  home  :  ic 

Leaving  the  old,  both  worlds  at  once  they  view 

That  stand  upo-n  the  threshold  of  the  new. 

JOHN    MILTON 

1608-1674 

L'ALLEGRO 

Hence,  loathed  Melancholy, 

Of  Cerberus,  and  blackest  Midnight  born, 

In  Stygian  cave  forlorn, 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy, 

Find  out  some  uncouth  cell. 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night-raven  sings  ; 


74  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

There  under  ebon  shades,  and  low-browed  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell.  lo 

But  come,  thou  Goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  Heav'n  yclep'd  Euphrosyne, 
And  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth, 
Whom  lovely  Venus  at  a  birth 

With  two  sister  Graces  more  15 

To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore  : 
Or  whether  (as  some  sager  sing) 
The  frolic  Wind  that  breathes  the  spring, 
Zephyr,  with  Aurora,  playing. 

As  he  met  her  once  a-Maying,  20 

There,  on  beds  of  violets  blue, 
And  fresh-blown  roses  washed  in  dew. 
Filled  her  with  thee,  a  daughter  fair. 
So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 

Haste  thee,  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee  25 

Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips,  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  Wiles, 
Nods,  and  Becks,  and  wreathed  Smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek ; '  30 

Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides. 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 
Come,  and  trip  it  as  ye  go. 
On  the  light  fantastic  toe  ; 

And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee  35 

The  mountain-nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 
And,  if  I  give  thee  honor  due, 
Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew. 
To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 

In  unreproved  pleasures  free  ;  40 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 
And  singing  startle  the  dull  night, 


MILTON  75 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled  Dawn  doth  rise ; 

Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow,  4S 

And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow 

Through  the  sweet-briar  or  the  vine, 

Or  the  twisted  eglantine  : 

While  the  cock  with  lively  din 

Scatters  the  rear  of  Darkness  thin,  50 

And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door. 

Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before  : 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 

From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill,  55 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill: 

Sometime  walking,  not  unseen 

By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green. 

Right  against  the  eastern  gate. 

Where  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state,  60 

Robed  in  flames,  and  amber  light, 

The  clouds  in  thousand  Hveries  dight ; 

While  the  ploughman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land. 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe,  65 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe. 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures, 

While  the  landskip  round  it  measures,  70 

Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray. 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray ; 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest ; 

Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied;  75 

Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide. 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 


'j6  PURITAN   AND    CAVALIER 

Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 

The  cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes.  80 

Hard  by,  a  cottage  chimney  smokes, 

P'rom  betwixt  two  aged  oaks. 

Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met. 

Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set 

Of  herbs,  and  other  country  messes,  85 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phylhs  dresses ; 

And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves. 

With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves  ; 

Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 

To  the  tanned  haycock  in  the  mead.  90 

Sometimes,  with  secure  delight 
The  upland  hamlets  will  invite. 
When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 
And  the  jocund  rebecks  sound 

To  many  a  youth,  and  many  a  maid  95 

Dancing  in  the  chequered  shade;  , 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 
On  a  sunshine  holiday. 
Till  the  livelong  daylight  fail : 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale,  ico 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
How  fairy  Mab  the  junkets  eat : 
She  was  pinched,  and  pulled,  she  said  ; 
And  he  by  friar's  lantern  led  ; 

Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat  105 

To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set. 
When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 
His  shadowy  flail  had  thresh'd  the  corn, 
That  ten  day-laborers  could  not  end  ; 

Then  lies  him  down  the  lubber  fiend  no 

And,  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength, 


MILTON  yy 

And,  crop-full,  out  of  doors  he  flings, 

Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep,  115 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep. 

Towered  cities  please  us  then, 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men. 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold 
In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold,  120 

With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
Of  wit,  or  arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  grace,  whom  all  commend, 

There  let  Hymen  oft  appear  125 

In  saffron  robe,  with  taper  clear. 
And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 
With  masque  and  antique  pageantry, 
Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream, 

On  summer  eves,  by  haunted  stream.  130 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon. 
If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on, 
Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever  against  eating  cares  135 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs. 
Married  to  immortal  verse. 
Such  as  the  melting  soul  may  pierce, 
In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out,  140 

With  wanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunning. 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running. 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony; 

That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head  145 

From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heaped  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 


78  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 

His  half-regained  Eurydice.  150 

These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 

IL  PENSEROSO 

Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys, 

The  brood  of  Folly,  without  father  bred  ! 

How  little  you  bested, 
Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with  all  your  toys  ! 

Dwell  in  some  idle  brain,  5 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
As  thick  and  numberless 
As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sun-beams, 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  train.  10 

But,  hail !  thou  Goddess,  sage  and  holy  ! 
Hail  divinest  Melancholy ! 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight. 

And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view  15 

O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue: 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem. 
Or  that  starred  Ethiop  queen,  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above  20 

The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended, 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended  ; 
Thee  bright-haired  Vesta  long  of  yore 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore  ; 

His  daughter  she  ;  in  Saturn's  reign  25 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain. 
Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 


MILTON  79 

He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 

Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 

While  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove.  30 

Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure. 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain 
Flowing  with  majestic  train. 

And  sable  stole  of  cypress  lawn,  35 

Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 
Come  ;  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 
With  even  step  and  musing  gait. 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 
Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes  :  40 

There,  held  in  holy  passion  still. 
Forget  thyself  to  marble,  till 
With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast. 
Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast. 
And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace  and  Quiet,  45 

Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  Gods  doth  diet, 
And  hear  the  Muses  in  a  ring 
Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing  ; 
And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 
That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure ;  50 

But  first  and  chiefest  with  thee  bring 
Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing, 
Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne, 
The  cherub  Contemplation  ; 

And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along,  55 

'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song, 
In  his  sweetest,  saddest  plight. 
Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 
While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke, 
Gently  o'er  the  accustom 'd  oak.  60 

Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy  ! 


8o  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Thee,  Chauntress,  oft  the  woods  among, 

I  woo  to  hear  thy  even-song ; 

And,  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen  65 

On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 

To  behold  the  wandering  Moon, 

Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 

Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 

Through  the  Heavens'  wide  pathless  way  ;  70 

And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bowed. 

Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 

Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 
I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 

Over  some  wide-watered  shore,  75 

Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar  ; 
Or  if  the  air  will  not  permit. 
Some  still,  removed  place  will  fit. 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom,  80 

Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth. 
Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 
Or  the  Bellman's  drowsy  charm. 
To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm. 

Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour  85 

Be  seen  on  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear, 
With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphere 
The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 

What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions  hold  90 

The  immortal  mind,  that  hath  forsook 
Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook ; 
And  of  those  Demons  that  are  found 
In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  under  ground, 
Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent  95 

With  planet,  or  with  element. 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragedy 


MILTON  01 

In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by, 

Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line, 

Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine,  loo 

Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age, 

Ennobled  hath  the  buskined  stage. 

But,  O  sad  Virgin  !  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musseus  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing  105 

Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string. 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek. 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  Love  did  seek  ; 
Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold,  no 

Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife. 
That  owned  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass. 
And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass, 
On  which  the  Tartar  King  did  ride  ;  115 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 

In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung. 

Of  tourneys  and  of  trophies  hung, 

Of  forests  and  enchantments  drear, 

Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear.  120 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civil-suited  Morn  appear. 

Not  tricked  and  frounced  as  she  was  wont 

With  the  Attic  boy  to  hunt, 

But  kerchieft  in  a  comely  cloud,  125 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud. 

Or  ushered  with  a  shower  still. 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 

With  minute-drops  from  off  the  eaves.  130 

And  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  Goddess,  bring 

ENG.    POEMS  —  6 


82  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 

And  shadows  brown,  that  Sylvan  loves. 

Of  pine  or  monumental  oak,  135 

Where  the  rude  axe  with  heaved  stroke 

Was  never  heard,  the  nymphs  to  daunt. 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallowed  haunt. 

There  in  close  covert,  by  some  brook, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look,  140 

Hide  me  from  Day's  garish  eye, 

While  the  bee  with  honeyed  thigh, 

That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring. 

With  such  concert  as  they  keep,  145 

Entice  the  dewy-feathered  Sleep. 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream. 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  airy  stream. 

Of  lively  portraiture  displayed. 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid.  150 

And  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath. 

Sent  by  some  Spirit  to  mortals  good. 

Or  the  unseen  Genius  of  the  wood. 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail  155 

To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale, 
And  love  the  high  embow^ed  roof. 
With  antique  pillars  massy  proof. 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light.  160 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 
To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 
In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 
As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 
Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies,  165 

And  bring  all  Heaven  before  mine  eyes. 
And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 


MILTON  83 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 

The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell  17° 

Of  every  star  that  Heaven  doth  shew, 

And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew ; 

Till  old  experience  do  attain 

To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give,  175 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 

LYCIDAS 

Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more, 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 

I  come,  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 

And,  with  forced  fingers  rude 

Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year.  s 

Bitter  constraint,  and  sad  occasion  dear 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due  ; 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer. 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?  he  knew  10 

Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 

He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 

Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  parching  wind. 

Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear. 

Begin,  then,  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well  15 

That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring ; 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain,  and  coy  excuse  : 
So  may  some  gentle  Muse 

With  lucky  words  favor  my  destined  urn,  20 

And,  as  he  passes,  turn. 
And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  ray  sable  shroud  ! 

For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill, 


<S4  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Fed  the  same  flock,  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill ; 

Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared  25 

Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  Morn, 

We  drove  a-field,  and  both  together  heard 

What  time  the  gray-fly  winds  her  sultry  horn. 

Battening  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 

Oft  till  the  star,  that  rose  at  evening  bright,  30 

Toward  heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering  wheel. 

Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute  ; 

Tempered  to  the  oaten  flute  ; 

Rough  satyrs  danced,  and  fauns  with  cloven  heel 

From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long;  35 

And  old  Damcetas  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  oh  !  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone, 
Now  thou  art  gone  and  never  must  return ! 
Thee,  Shepherd,  thee  the  woods,  and  desert  caves, 
With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding  vine  o'ergrown,  40 

And  all  their  echoes,  mourn. 
The  willows,  and  the  hazel  copses  green, 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen 
Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays. 
As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose,  45 

Or  taint-worm  to  the  weanling  herds  that  graze. 
Or  frost  to  flowers,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear. 
When  first  the  white-thorn  blows  ; 
Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear. 

Where  were  ye,  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless  deep  50 
Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas  ? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep. 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie. 
Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mona  high. 
Nor  yet  where  Deva  spreads  her  wizard  stream.  55 

Ay  me,  I  fondly  dream 

'  Had  ye  been   there,'   .    .  .    for  what  could  that  have 
done  ? 


MILTON  85 

What  could  the  Muse  herself  that  Orpheus  bore, 

The  Muse  herself,  for  her  enchanting  son. 

Whom  universal  nature  did  lament,  60 

When,  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar. 

His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 

Down  the  swift  Hebrus  to  the  Lesbian  shore  ? 

Alas  !  what  boots  it  with  uncessant  care 
To  tend  the  homely,  slighted,  Shepherd's  trade,  65 

And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  Muse  ? 
Were  it  not  better  done,  as  others  use. 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis,  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Neaera's  hair? 
Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise  70 

(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 
To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days  ; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find. 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze. 
Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears,  75 

And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.     '  But  not  the  praise,' 
Phoebus  replied,  and  touched  my  trembling  ears  : 
'  Fame  is  no  plant  that  growls  on  mortal  soil, 
Nor  in  the  glistering  foil 

Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumor  lies,  80 

But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove  ; 
As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed. 
Of  so  much  fame  in  heaven  expect  thy  meed.' 

O  fountain  Arethuse,  and  thou  honored  flood,  85 

Smooth-sliding  Mincius,  crowned  with  vocal  reeds, 
That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood. 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds. 
And  listens  to  the  Herald  of  the  Sea, 
That  came  in  Neptune's  plea.  90 

He  asked  the  waves,  and  asked  the  felon  winds. 
What  hard  mishap  hath  doomed  this  gentle  swain  ? 


86  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

And  questioned  every  gust,  of  rugged  wings 

That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory. 

They  knew  not  of  his  story;  95 

And  sage  Hippotades  their  answer  brings, 

That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  strayed : 

The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 

Sleek  Panope  with  all  her  sisters  played. 

It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark,  icx) 

Built  in  the  eclipse,  and  rigged  with  curses  dark, 

That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

Next,  Camus,  reverend  sire,  went  footing  slow, 
His  mantle  hairy,  and  his  bonnet  sedge. 
Inwrought  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge  105 

Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe. 
'  Ah  !  who  hath  reft,'  quoth  he,  '  my  dearest  pledge  ? ' 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go, 
The  Pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake  ; 

Two  massy  keys  he  bore,  of  metals  twain,  no 

(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain). 
He  shook  his  mitred  locks,  and  stern  bespake:  — 
*  How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain, 
Enough  of  such  as,  for  their  bellies'  sake, 
Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb  into  the  fold  !  115 

Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearers'  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest. 
Blind  mouths  !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold 
A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learnt  aught  else  the  least  120 

That  to  the  faithful  herdman's  art  belongs  ! 
What  recks  it  them  ?     What  need  they  ?    They  are  sped  ; 
And,  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 
Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw  ; 
The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed,  125 

But,  swoln  with  wind  and  the  rank  mist  they  draw, 
Rot  inw-ardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread  ; 


MILTON  S7 

Besides  what  the  grim  Wolf,  with  privy  paw, 

Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said. 

But  that  two-handed  engine  at  the  door  130 

Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more.' 

Return,  Alpheus  ;  the  dread  voice  is  past 
That  shrunk  thy  streams  ;  return  Sicilian  Muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells  and  flowerets  of  a  thousand  hues.  135 

Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks. 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamelled  eyes. 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honeyed  showers,         140 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies. 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet,  145 

The  musk-rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine. 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears ; 
Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 

And  daffodillies  fill,  their  cups  with  tears,  150 

To  strew  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 
For,  so  to  interpose  a  little  ease. 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise. 
Ay  me  !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas 
Wash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurled  ;  155 

Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides, 
Where  thou,  perhaps,  under  the  whelming  tide 
Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world ; 
Or  whether  thou,  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 
Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old,  160 

Where  the  great  vision  of  the  guarded  mount 
Looks  towards  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold. 


PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Look  homeward,  Angel,  now,  and  melt  with  ruth  : 
And  O,  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth. 

Weep  no  more,  woful  shepherds,  weep  no  more,         165 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor. 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean-bed. 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and,  with  new-spangled  ore,        170 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high. 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walked  the  waves, 
Where,  other  groves  and  other  streams  along. 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves,  175 

And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song, 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops  and  sweet  societies. 
That  sing,  and,  singing,  in  their  glory  move,  180 

And  wipe  the  tears  for  ever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more ; 
Henceforth  thou  art  the  Genius  of  the  shore, 
In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  be  good 
To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood.  185 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills, 
While  the  still  Morn  went  out  with  sandals  grey  ; 
He  touched  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills. 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay : 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretched  out  all  the  hills,  190 

And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay : 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitched  his  mantle  blue: 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods,  and  pastures  new. 


MILTON  89 

ON    THE   LATE    MASSACRE    IN    PIEDMONT 

Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 

Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold  ; 

Even  them  who  kept  thy  truth  so  pure  of  old, 
When  all  our  fathers  worshiped  stocks  and  stones, 
P'orget  not :  in  thy  book  record  their  groans  5 

Who  were  thy  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold 

Slain  by  the  bloody  Piemontese,  that  rolled 
Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.     Their  moans 
The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they 

To  heaven.     Their  martyred  blood  and  ashes  sow  10 

O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 

The  triple  Tyrant ;  that  from  these  may  grow 
A  hundred  fold,  who,  having  learnt  thy  way, 

Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe. 

ON    HIS    BLINDNESS 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 
And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide. 
Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present  5 

My  true  account,  lest  He  returning  chide, 
'  Doth  God  exact  day  labor,  light  denied  ? ' 
I  fondly  ask.     But  Patience  to  prevent 

That  murmur  soon  replies,  '  God  doth  not  need 

Either  man's  work  or  his  own  gifts.     Who  best  10 

Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best.     His  state 

Is  kingly :  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed. 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest ; 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait.' 


90  PURITAN  AND   CAVALIER 

SIR   JOHN    SUCKLING 

1609-1642 

WHY   SO    PALE   AND    WAN? 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale  ? 
Will,  when  looking  well  can't  move  her, 

Looking  ill  prevail  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale  ?  S 

Why  so  dumb  and  mute,  young  sinner  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ? 
Will,  when  speaking  well  can't  win  her, 

Saying  nothing  do't  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ?  10 

Quit,  quit,  for  shame,  this  will  not  move : 

This  cannot  take  her. 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love, 

Nothing  can  make  her  : 

The  devil  take  her  !  15 

I  PRITHEE    SEND    ME   BACK    MY   HEART 

I  PRITHEE  send  me  back  my  heart, 

Since  I  cannot  have  thine  : 
For  if  from  yours  you  will  not  part. 

Why,  then,  shouldst  thou  have  mine  ? 

Yet  now  I  think  on't,  let  it  lie,  5 

To  find  it  were  in  vain, 
For  th'  hast  a  thief  in  either  eye 

Would  steal  it  back  again. 


BUTLER  91 

Why  should  two  hearts  in  one  breast  lie, 

And  yet  not  lodge  together  ?  10 

O  Love,  where  is  thy  sympathy, 
If  thus  our  breasts  thou  sever  ? 

But  love  is  such  a  mystery, 

I  cannot  find  it  out : 
For  when  I  think  I'm  best  resolv'd,  15 

I  then  am  most  in  doubt. 

Then  farewell  care,  and  farewell  woe, 

I  will  no  longer  pine  ; 
For  I'll  believe  I  have  her  heart. 

As  much  as  she  has  mine.  20 


SAMUEL    BUTLER 

1612— 1680 

EXTRACTS    FROM    HUDIBRAS 

PART   I,  CANTO    I,  11.    15-104 

A  WIGHT  he  was,  whose  very  sight  would 
Entitle  him  Mirror  of  Knight-hood  ; 
That  never  bent  his  stubborn  knee 
To  any  thing  but  chivalry, 
Nor  put  up  blow,  but  that  which  laid 
Right  worshipful  on  shoulder-blade  : 
Chief  of  domestic  knights  and  errant, 
Either  for  chartel  or  for  warrant : 
Great  on  the  bench,  great  in  the  saddle. 
That  could  as  well  bind  o'er,  as  swaddle : 
Mighty  he  was  at  both  of  these, 
And  styl'd  of  War,  as  well  as  Peace. 
So  some  rats  of  amphibious  nature, 


92  PURITAN    AND    CAVALIER 

Are  either  for  the  land  or  water. 

But  here  our  authors  make  a  doubt,  15 

Whether  he  were  more  wise,  or  stout. 

Some  hold  the  one,  and  some  the  other ; 

But  howsoe'er  they  make  a  pother. 

The  dilT'rence  was  so  small,  his  brain 

Outweigh'd  his  rage  but  half  a  grain;  20 

Which  made  some  take  him  for  a  tool 

That  knaves  do  work  with,  call'd  a  fool : 

And  offer'd  to  lay  wagers,  that 

As  Montaigne,  playing  with  his  cat. 

Complains  she  thought  him  but  an  ass,  25 

Much  more  she  would  Sir  Hudibras  : 

For  that's  the  name  our  valiant  knight 

To  all  his  challenges  did  write. 

But  they're  mistaken  very  much, 

'Tis  plain  enough  he  was  no  such  :  30 

We  grant,  although  he  had  much  wit, 

H'  was  very  shy  of  using  it  ; 

As  being  loth  to  wear  it  out, 

And  therefore  bore  it  not  about, 

Unless  on  holy-days,  or  so,  35 

As  men  their  best  apparel  do. 

Besides,  'tis  known  he  could  speak  Greek 

As  naturally  as  pigs  squeak : 

That  Latin  was  no  more  difficile, 

Than  to  a  blackbird  'tis  to  whistle  :  40 

Being  rich  in  both,  he  never  scanted 

His  bounty  unto  such  as  wanted  ; 

But  much  of  either  would  afford 

To  many,  that  had  not  one  word. 

For  Hebrew  roots,  although  they're  found  45 

To  flourish  most  in  barren  ground, 

He  had  such  plenty,  as  suffic'd 

To  make  some  think  him  circumcis'd  ; 


BU  FLER  93 

And  truly  so,  perhaps,  he  was, 

'Tis  many  a  pious  Christian's  case.  50 

He  was  in  logic  a  great  critic, 
Profoundly  skill'd  in  analytic  ; 
He  could  distinguish,  and  divide 
A  hair  'twixt  south,  and  south-west  side  ; 
On  either  which  he  would  dispute,  55 

Confute,  change  hands,  and  still  confute  ; 
He'd  undertake  to  prove,  by  force 
Of  argument,  a  man's  no  horse  ; 
He'd  prove  a  buzzard  is  no  fowl, 

And  that  a  lord  may  be  an  owl  ;  60 

A  calf  an  alderman,  a  goose  a  justice. 
And  rooks  committee-men  or  trustees. 
He'd  run  in  debt  by  disputation, 
And  pay  with  ratiocination. 

All  this  by  syllogism,  true  65 

In  mood  and  figure,  he  would  do. 

For  Rhetoric,  he  could  not  ope 
His  mouth,  but  out  there  flew  a  trope  : 
And  when  he  happen'd  to  break  off 

r  th'  middle  of  his  speech,  or  cough,  70 

H'  had  hard  words  ready  to  show  why 
And  tell  what  rules  he  did  it  by. 
Else,  when  with  greatest  art  he  spoke, 
You'd  think  he  talk'd  like  other  folk. 
For  all  a  rhetorician's  rules  75 

Teach  nothing  but  to  name  his  tools. 
His  ordinary  rate  of  speech 
In  loftiness  of  sound  was  rich  ; 
A  Babylonish  dialect. 

Which  learned  pedants  much  affect.  80 

It  was  a  parti-color'd  dress 
Of  patched  and  piebald  languages  : 
'Twas  English  cut  on  Greek  and  Latin, 


94  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Like  fustian  heretofore  on  satin. 

It  had  an  odd  promiscuous  tone  85 

As  if  h'  had  talked  three  parts  in  one  ; 

Which  made  some  think,  when  he  did  gabble, 

Th'  had  heard  three  laborers  of  Babel ; 

Or  Cerberus  himself  pronounce 

A  leash  of  languages  at  once.  90 

***** 
For  he  was  of  that  stubborn  crew 
Of  errant  saints,  whom  all  men  grant 
To  be  the  true  church  militant : 
Such  as  do  build  their  faith  upon 

The  holy  text  of  pike  and  gun  ;  95 

Decide  all  controversies  by 
Infallible  artillery ; 
And  prove  their  doctrine  orthodox 
With  apostolic  blows,  and  knocks  ; 

Call  fire,  and  sword,  and  desolation,  100 

A  godly  —  thorough  —  Reformation, 
Which  always  must  be  carry 'd  on. 
And  still  be  doing,  never  done 
As  if  religion  were  intended 

For  nothing  else  but  to  be  mended.  105 

A  sect  whose  chief  devotion  lies 
In  odd,  perverse  antipathies  : 
In  falling  out  with  that  or  this. 
And  finding  somewhat  still  amiss  : 

More  peevish,  cross,  and  splenetic  no 

Than  dog  distract,  or  monkey  sick. 
That  with  more  care  keep  holy-day 
The  wrong,  than  others  the  right  way : 
Compound  for  sins  they  are  inclin'd  to, 
By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to  :  115 

Still  so  perverse  and  opposite, 
As  if  they  worship'd  God  for  spite. 


BUTLER  95 

The  self-same  thing  they  will  abhor 

One  way,  and  long  another  for. 

Free-will  they  one  way  disavow,  120 

Another,  nothing  else  allow. 

All  piety  consists  therein 

In  them,  in  other  men  all  sin. 

Rather  than  fail,  they  will  defy 

That  which  they  love  most  tenderly ;  125 

Quarrel  with  minc'd-pies,  and  disparage 

Their  best  and  dearest  friend  —  plum-porridge  ; 

Fat  pig  and  goose  itself  oppose, 

And  blaspheme  custard  through  the  nose. 

PART  I,  CANTO  III,  11.  1041-1056 

He  that  is  valiant  and  dares  fight. 

Though  drubb'd,  can  lose  no  honor  by't. 

Honor's  a  lease  for  lives  to  come. 

And  cannot  be  extended  from 

The  legal  tenant :  'Tis  a  chattel  5 

Not  to  be  forfeited  in  battle. 

If  he  that  in  the  field  is  slain. 

Be  in  the  bed  of  honor  lain. 

He  that  is  beaten  may  be  said 

To  lie  in  honor's  truckle-bed.  10 

For  as  we  see  the  eclipsed  sun 

By  mortals  is  more  gaz'd  upon 

Than  when,  adorn 'd  with  all  his  light, 

He  shines  in  serene  sky  most  bright ; 

So  valor,  in  a  low  estate,  15 

Is  most  admir'd  and  wonder'd  at. 


g6  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

PART  II,  CANTO  I,  11.  903-916 

The  sun  grew  low  and  left  the  skies, 
Put  down,  some  write,  by  ladies'  eyes. 
The  moon  pull'd  off  her  veil  of  light 
That  hides  her  face  by  day  from  sight. 
(Mysterious  veil,  of  brightness  made, 
That's  both  her  lustre  and  her  shade), 
And  in  the  night  as  freely  shone, 
As  if  her  rays  had  been  her  own  : 
For  darkness  is  the  proper  sphere 
Where  all  false  glories  use  t'  appear. 
The  twinkling  stars  began  to  muster, 
And  glitter  with  their  borrow'd  lustre. 
While  sleep  the  weary'd  world  reliev'd, 
By  counterfeiting  death  reviv'd. 

PART  II,  CANTO  II,  11.  29-32 

The  sun  had  long  since,  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis,  taken  out  his  nap. 
And,  like  a  lobster  boil'd,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  began  to  turn. 

PART  III,  CANTO  I,  11.  205-220 

Some  say  the  soul's  secure 
Against  distress  and  forfeiture  ; 
Is  free  from  action,  and  exempt 
From  execution  and  contempt ; 
And  to  be  summon 'd  to  appear 
In  the  other  world's  illegal  here. 
And  therefore  few  make  any  account 
Int'  what  encumbrances  the}'  run't : 
For  most  men  carry  things  so  even 
Between  this  world,  and  hell,  and  heaven, 


BUTLER  97 

Without  the  least  offence  to  either 

They  freely  deal  in  all  together, 

And  equally  abhor  to  quit 

This  world  for  both,  or  both  for  it : 

And  when  they  pawn  and  damn  their  souls,  15 

They  are  but  pris'ners  on  paroles. 

■^  -5^  *■  ^  'p' 

There  are  no  bargains  driv'n  ; 
Nor  marriages,  clapp'd  up  in  heav'n. 
And  that's  the  reason,  as  some  guess, 
There  is  no  heav'n  in  marriages  ;  20 

Two  things  that  naturally  press 
Too  narrowly,  to  be  at  ease  : 
Their  bus'ness  there  is  only  love. 
Which  marriage  is  not  like,  t'  improve; 
Love  that's  too  generous  t'  abide  25 

To  be  against  its  nature  ty'd  ; 
For  where  'tis  of  itself  inclin'd. 
It  breaks  loose  M'hen  it  is  confin'd, 
And  like  the  soul,  its  harborer, 

Debarred  the  freedom  of  the  air,  30 

Disdains  against  its  will  to  stay. 
And  struggles  out,  and  flies  away: 
And  therefore  never  can  comply, 
T'  endure  the  matrimonial  tie, 

That  binds  the  female  and  the  male,  35 

Where  th'  one  is  but  the  other's  bail ; 
Like  Roman  jailers,  when  they  slept, 
Chain'd  to  the  prisoners  they  kept. 


ENG.  POEMS- 


98  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

RICHARD    LOVELACE 

1618-1658 
TO   ALTHEA,    FROM    PRISON 

When  love  with  uncon fined  wings 

Hovers  within  my  gates, 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings 

To  whisper  at  the  grates  ; 
When  I  lie  tangled  in  her  hair,  5 

And  fetter'd  to  her  eye, 
The  birds  that  wanton  in  the  air 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

When  flowing  cups  run  swiftly  round. 

With  no  allaying  Thames,  lo 

Our  careless  heads  with  roses  bound. 

Our  hearts  with  loyal  flames  ; 
When  thirsty  grief  in  wine  we  steep. 

When  healths  and  draughts  go  free  — 
Fishes  that  tipple  in  the  deep  15 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

When,  like  committed  linnets,  I 

With  shriller  throat  shall  sing 
The  sweetness,  mercy,  majesty, 

And  glories  of  my  King :  20 

When  I  shall  voice  aloud  how  good 

He  is,  how  great  should  be  — 
Enlarged  winds  that  curl  the  flood 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make,  25 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 


VAUGHAN     ■'  99 

Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  a  hermitage  : 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free  —  30 

Angels  alone  that  soar  above 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 


TO   LUCASTA,    ON   GOING   TO    THE   WARS 

Tell  me  not,  Sweet,  I  am  unkind, 

That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind 

To  war  and  arms  I  fly. 

True,  a  new  mistress  now  I  chase. 

The  first  foe  in  the  field  ; 
And  with  a  stronger  faith  embrace 

A  sword,  a  horse,  a  shield. 

Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  thou,  too,  shalt  adore  ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  Dear,  so  much, 

Loved  I  not  Honor  more. 


HENRY   VAUGHAN 

1622-1695 

THE   RETREAT 

Happy  those  early  days,  when  I 
Shined  in  my  angel-infancy! 
Before  I  understood  this  place 


100  PURITyVN   AND   CAVALIER 

Appointed  for  my  second  race, 

Or  taught  my  soul  to  fancy  aught  5 

But  a  white,  celestial  thought ; 

When  yet  I  had  not  walked  above 

A  mile  or  two  from  my  first  Love, 

And  looking  back,  —  at  that  short  space, — 

Could  see  a  glimpse  of  His  bright  face  ;  lo 

When  on  some  gilded  cloud,  or  flower, 

My  gazing  soul  would  dwell  an  hour, 

And  in  those  weaker  glories  spy 

Some  shadows  of  eternity  ; 

Before  I  taught  my  tongue  to  wound  15 

My  conscience  with  a  sinful  sound, 

Or  had  the  black  art  to  dispense 

A  sev'ral  sin  to  every  sense. 

But  felt  through  all  this  fleshly  dress 

Bright  shoots  of  everlastingness.  20 

O  how  I  long  to  travel  back. 

And  tread  again  that  ancient  track ! 

That  I  might  once  more  reach  that  plain 

Where  first  I  left  my  glorious  train  ; 

From  whence  th'  enlightened  spirit  sees  25 

That  shady  city  of  palm-trees. 

But  ah  !  my  soul  with  too  much  stay 

Is  drunk,  and  staggers  in  the  way ! 

Some  men  a  forward  motion  love. 

But  I  by  backward  steps  would  move  ;  •  30 

And  when  this  dust  falls  to  the  urn. 

In  that  state  I  came,  return. 


DRYDEN  lOI 

JOHN    DRYDEN 

1631-1700 

MAC    FLECKNOE 

All  human  things  are  subject  to  decay, 

And,  when  fate  summons,  monarchs  must  obey. 

This  Flecknoe  found,  who,  Uke  Augustus,  young 

Was  called  to  empire,  and  had  governed  long ; 

In  prose  and  verse  was  found  without  dispute,  5 

Through  all  the  realms  of  Nonsense,  absolute. 

This  aged  prince,  now  flourished  in  peace, 

And  blessed  with  issue  of  a  large  increase, 

Worn  out  with  business,  did  at  length  debate 

To  settle  the  succession  of  the  state  ;  10 

And,  pondering  which  of  all  his  sons  was  fit 

To  reign,  and  wage  immortal  war  with  wit, 

Cried,  — '  'Tis  resolved  !  for  nature  pleads,  that  he 

Should  only  rule,  who  most  resembles  me. 

Shadwell  alone  my  perfect  image  bears,  15 

Mature  in  dulness  from  his  tender  years ; 

Shadwell  alone,  of  all  my  sons,  is  he. 

Who  stands  confirmed  in  full  stupidity. 

The  rest  to  some  faint  meaning  make  pretence, 

But  Shadwell  never  deviates  into  sense  ;  20 

Some  beams  of  wit  on  other  souls  may  fall, 

Strike  through,  and  make  a  lucid  interval  ; 

But  Shadwell's  genuine  night  admits  no  ray, 

His  rising  fogs  prevail  upon  the  clay. 

Besides,  his  goodly  fabric  fills  the  eye,  25 

And  seems  designed  for  thoughtless  majesty  ; 

Thoughtless  as  monarch  oaks,  that  shade  the  plain, 

And,  spread  in  solemn  state,  supinely  reign. 


102  PURITAN   AND   CAVALIER 

Heywood  and  Shirley  were  but  types  of  thee, 

Thou  last  great  prophet  of  tautology  !  30 

Even  I,  a  dunce  of  more  renown  than  they, 

Was  sent  before  but  to  prepare  the  way  ; 

And,  coarsely  clad  in  Norwich  drugget,  came 

To  teach  the  nation  in  thy  greater  name.' 


A  SONG  FOR  ST.  CECILIA'S  DAY,  NOVEMBER  22,  16S7 


From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony, 
This  universal  frame  began  : 
When  nature  underneath  a  heap 

Of  jarring  atoms  lay. 
And  could  not  heave  her  head,  5 

The  tuneful  voice  was  heard  from  high, 

'Arise,  ye  more  than  dead.' 
Then  cold,  and  hot,  and  moist,  and  dry, 
In  order  to  their  stations  leap, 

And  Music's  power  obey.  10 

From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony, 

This  universal  frame  began  ; 
From  harmony  to  harmony 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  man.  15 


What  passion  cannot  music  raise  and  quell? 
When  Jubal  struck  the  chorded  shell, 

His  listening  brethren  stood  around, 
And,  wondering,  on  their  faces  fell 
To  worship  that  celestial  sound  : 


DRYDEN  103 

Less  than  a  God  they  thought  there  could  not  dwell 

Within  the  hollow  of  that  shell, 

That  spoke  so  sweetly,  and  so  well. 
What  passion  cannot  Music  raise  and  quell  ? 

Ill 

The  trumpet's  loud  clangor  25 

Excites  us  to  arms 
With  shrill  notes  of  anger 

And  mortal  alarms. 
The  double,  double,  double  beat 

Of  the  thundering  drum  30 

Cries,  hark  !  the  foes  come : 
Charge,  charge  !  'tis  too  late  to  retreat. 


The  soft  complaining  flute. 
In  dying  notes  discovers 
The  woes  of  hopeless  lovers  ;  35 

Whose  dirge  is  whisper'd  by  the  warbling  lute. 


Sharp  violins  proclaim 
Their  jealous  pangs  and  desperation. 
Fury,  frantic  indignation. 
Depth  of  pains,  and  height  of  passion,         40 
For  the  fair,  disdainful  dame. 

VI 

But  oh  !  what  art  can  teach. 
What  human  voice  can  reach. 
The  sacred  organ's  praise  ? 

Notes  inspiring  holy  love,  45 


I04  PURITAN   AND    CAVALIER 

Notes  that  wing  their  heavenly  ways 
To  mend  the  choirs  above. 

VII 

Orpheus  could  lead  the  savage  race ; 
And  trees  uprooted  left  their  place, 

Sequacious  of  the  lyre  :  50 

But  bright  Cecilia  raised  the  wonder  higher ; 

When  to  her  organ  vocal  breath  was  given, 
An  angel  heard,  and  straight  appeared, 

Mistaking  earth  for  heaven. 

Grand  Chorus 

As  from  the  power  of  sacred  lays  55 

The  spheres  began  to  move, 
And  sung  the  great  Creator's  praise 

To  all  the  bless'd  above  ; 
So  when  the  last  and  dreadful  hour 
This  crumbling  pageant  shall  devour,  60 

The  trumpet  shall  be  heard  on  high, 
The  dead  shall  live,  the  living  die. 
And  Music  shall  untune  the  sky. 


PRIOR  105 

THE    PERIOD   OF    CLASSICISM 

MATTHEW  PRIOR 

1664-1721 

AN   ODE 

The  merchant,  to  secure  his  treasure, 

Conveys  it  in  a  borrow'd  name  : 
Euphelia  serves  to  grace  my  measure  ; 

But  Chloe  is  my  real  flame. 

My  softest  verse,  my  darhng  lyre,  5 

Upon  Euphelia's  toilet  lay  ; 
When  Chloe  noted  her  desire. 

That  I  should  sing,  that  I  should  play. 

My  lyre  I  tune,  my  voice  I  raise ; 

But  with  my  numbers  mix  my  sighs  :  10 

And  whilst  I  sing  Euphelia's  praise, 
I  fix  my  soul  on  Chloe's  eyes. 

Fair  Chloe  blush'd  :  Euphelia  frown'd  : 

I  sung  and  gaz'd  :  I  played  and  trembled : 

And  Venus  to  the  Loves  around  15 

Remark'd  how  ill  we  all  dissembled. 

JOHN   GAY 

1685-1732 

GO,  ROSE,  MY  CHLOE'S  BOSOM  GRACE 

'  Go,  rose,  my  Chloe's  bosom  grace  ! 

How  happy  should  I  prove, 
Might  I  supply  that  envied  place 

With  never-fading  love  ! 


I06  THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

There,  Phoenix-like,  beneath  her  eye, 
Involved  in  fragrance,  burn  and  die! 
Know,  hapless  flower !  that  thou  shalt  find 

More  fragrant  roses  there  ; 
I  see  thy  with'ring  head  recHned 

With  envy  and  despair  ! 
One  common  fate  we  both  must  prove ; 
You  die,  with  envy;  I,  with  love.' 

O,  RUDDIER  THAN  THE  CHERRY 

[From  Acis  and  Galatea] 

O,  RUDDIER  than  the  cherry  ! 

O,  sweeter  than  the  berry  ! 
O,  Nymph  more  bright 
Than  moonshine  night ! 

Like  kidlings  blithe  and  merry  ! 

Ripe  as  the  melting  cluster  ! 
No  lily  has  such  luster  ! 

Yet  hard  to  tame 
'  As  raging  flame; 
And  fierce  as  storms  that  bluster  ! 


ALEXANDER    POPE 

I 688-1 744 
AN  ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM 

[From  Pari  II] 

Of  all  the  causes  which  conspire  to  blind 
Man's  erring  judgment,  and  misguide  the  mind. 
What  the  weak  head  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
Is  pride,  the  never-failing  vice  of  fools, 


POPE  107 

Whatever  nature  has  in  worth  denied,  5 

She  gives  in  large  recruits  of  needful  pride ; 

For  as  in  bodies,  thus  in  souls,  we  find 

What  wants  in  blood  and  spirits,  swelled  with  wind : 

Pride,  where  wit  fails,  steps  into  our  defence. 

And  fills  up  all  the  mighty  void  of  sense.  10 

If  once  right  reason  drives  that  cloud  away. 

Truth  breaks  upon  us  with  resistless  day. 

Trust  not  yourself ;  but  your  defects  to  know, 

Make  use  of  ev'ry  friend  and  ev'ry  foe. 

A  little  learning  is  a  dang'rous  thing ;  15 

Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring  : 
There  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain. 
And  drinking  largely  sobers  us  again. 
Fired  at  first  sight  with  what  the  muse  imparts, 
In  fearless  youth  we  tempt  the  heights  of  arts,  20 

While  from  the  bounded  level  of  our  mind. 
Short  views  we  take,  nor  see  the  lengths  behind  ; 
But  more  advanced,  behold,  with  strange  surprise, 
New  distant  scenes  of  endless  science  rise  ! 
So  pleased  at  first  the  tow'ring  Alps  we  try,  25 

Mount  o'er  the  vales,  and  seem  to  tread  the  sky, 
Th'  eternal  snows  appear  already  past, 
And  the  first  clouds  and  mountains  seem  the  last : 
But,  those  attained,  we  tremble  to  survey 
The  growing  labors  of  the  lengthened  way,  30 

Th'  increasing  prospect  tires  our  wand'ring  eyes. 
Hills  peep  o'er  hills,  and  Alps  on  Alps  arise ! 

A  perfect  judge  will  read  each  work  of  wit 
With  the  same  spirit  that  its  author  writ : 
Survey  the  whole,  nor  seek  slight  faults  to  find  35 

Where  nature  moves,  and  rapture  warms  the  mind ; 
Nor  lose  for  that  malignant  dull  delight, 
The  gen'rous  pleasure  to  be  charmed  with  wit. 
But,  in  such  lays  as  neither  ebb  nor  flow. 


I08  THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

Correctly  cold,  and  regularly  low,  40 

That,  shunning  faults,  one  quiet  tenor  keep  ; 

We  cannot  blame  indeed,  but  we  may  sleep. 

In  wit,  as  nature,  what  affects  our  hearts 

Is  not  th'  exactness  of  peculiar  parts  ; 

'Tis  not  a  lip,  or  eye,  we  beauty  call,  45 

But  the  joint  force  and  full  result  of  all. 

Thus  when  we  view  some  well-proportioned  dome, 

(The  world's  just  wonder,  and  ev'n  thine,  O  Rome !) 

No  single  parts  unequally  surprise, 

All  comes  united  to  th'  admiring  eyes  ;  50 

No  monstrous  height,  or  breadth,  or  length  appear  ; 

The  whole  at  once  is  bold,  and  regular. 

Whoever  thinks  a  faultless  piece  to  see. 
Thinks  what  ne'er  was,  nor  is,  nor  e'er  shall  be. 
In  ev'ry  work  regard  the  writer's  end,  55 

Since  none  can  compass  more  than  they  intend ; 
And  if  the  means  be  just,  the  conduct  true, 
Applause,  in  spite  of  trivial  faults,  is  due. 
As  men  of  breeding,  sonietimes  men  of  wit, 
T'  avoid  great  errors,  must  the  less  commit:  60 

Neglect  the  rules  each  verbal  critic  lays. 
For  not  to  know  some  trifles,  is  a  praise. 
Most  critics,  fond  of  some  subservient  art. 
Still  make  the  whole  depend  upon  a  part : 
They  talk  of  principles,  but  notions  prize,  65 

And  all  to  one  loved  folly  sacrifice. 

Once  on  a  time.  La  Mancha's  Knight,  they  say, 
A  certain  bard  encount'ring  on  the  way. 
Discoursed  in  terms  as  just,  with  looks  as  sage. 
As  e'er  could  Dennis  of  the  Grecian  stage  ;  70 

Concluding  all  were  desp'rate  sots  and  fools. 
Who  durst  depart  from  Aristotle's  rules. 
Our  author,  happy  in  a  judge  so  nice. 
Produced  his  play,  and  begged  the  knight's  advice  ; 


POPE  I 09 

Made  him  observe  the  subject,  and  the  plot,  75 

The  manners,  passions,  unities,  what  not, 

All  which,  exact  to  rule,  were  brought  about, 

Were  but  a  combat  in  the  lists  left  out. 

'  What !  leave  the  combat  out ! '  exclaims  the  knight ; 

Yes,  or  we  must  renounce  the  Stagyrite.  80 

'  Not  so,  by  Heav'n  '  he  answers  in  a  rage, 

'  Knights,  squires,  and  steeds,  must  enter  on  the  stage.' 

So  vast  a  throng  the  stage  can  ne'er  contain. 

'  Then  build  a  new,  or  act  it  in  a  plain.' 

Thus  critics  of  less  judgment  than  caprice,  85 

Curious  not  knowing,  not  exact  but  nice, 
Form  short  ideas  ;  and  offend  in  arts, 
As  most  in  manners,  by  a  love  to  parts. 

Some  to  conceit  alone  their  taste  confine. 
And  glitt'ring  thoughts  struck  out  at  ev'ry  line  ;  go 

Pleased  with  a  work  where  nothing's  just  or  fit ; 
One  glaring  chaos  and  wild  heap  of  wit. 
Poets,  like  painters,  thus,  unskilled  to  trace 
The  naked  nature  and  the  living  grace. 
With  gold  and  jewels  cover  ev'ry  part,  95 

And  hide  with  ornaments  their  want  of  art. 
True  wit  is  nature  to  advantage  dressed  ; 
What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed  ; 
Something,  whose  truth  convinced  at  sight  we  find. 
That  gives  us  back  the  image  of  our  mind.  100 

As  shades  more  sweetly  recommend  the  light. 
So  modest  plainness  sets  off  sprightly  wit. 
For  works  may  have  more  wit  than  does  'em  good. 
As  bodies  perish  through  excess  of  blood. 

Others  for  language  all  their  care  express,  105 

And  value  books,  as  women  men,  for  dress  : 
Their  praise  is  still,  —  the  style  is  excellent ; 
The  sense,  they  humbly  take  upon  content. 
Words  are  like  leaves  ;  and,  where  they  most  abound, 


no  THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

Much  fruit  of  sense  beneath  is  rarely  found :  no 

False  eloquence,  like  the  prismatic  glass, 

Its  gaudy  colors  spreads  on  ev'ry  place ; 

The  face  of  nature  we  no  more  survey. 

All  glares  alike,  without  distinction  gay  : 

But  true  expression,  like  th'  unchanging  sun,  1  115 

Clears  and  improves  whate'er  it  shines  upon,  I 

It  gilds  all  objects,  but  it  alters  none. 

Expression  is  the  dress  of  thought,  and  still 

Appears  more  decent,  as  more  suitable : 

A  vile  conceit  in  pompous  words  expressed  120 

Is  like  a  clown  in  regal  purple  dressed : 

For  diff'rent  styles  with  diff'rent  subjects  sort, 

As  several  garbs  with  country,  town,  and  court. 

Some  by  old  words  to  fame  have  made  pretence. 

Ancients  in  phrase,  mere  moderns  in  their  sense  ;  125 

Such  labored  nothings,  in  so  strange  a  style. 

Amaze  th'  unlearn'd,  and  make  the  learned  smile. 

Unlucky,  as  Fungoso  in  the  play,  1 

These  sparks  with  awkward  vanity  display  > 

What  the  fine  gentleman  wore  yesterday  ;    I  130 

And  but  so  mimic  ancient  wits  at  best, 

As  apes  our  grandsires,  in  their  doublets  drest. 

In  words,  as  fashions,  the  same  rule  will  hold  ; 

Alike  fantastic,  if  too  new,  or  old  : 

Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  tried,  135 

Nor  yet  the  last  to  lay  the  old  aside. 

But  most  by  numbers  judge  a  poet's  song. 
And  smooth  or  rough,  with  them  is  right  or  wrong  : 
In  the  bright  muse,  though  thousand  charms  conspire, 
Her  voice  is  all  these  tuneful  fools  admire ;  140 

Who  haunt  Parnassus  but  to  please  their  ear,  1 
Not  mend  their  minds ;  as  some  to  church  repair,  J- 
Not  for  the  doctrine,  but  the  music  there.  J 

These  equal  syllables  alone  require, 


POPE  1 1 1 

Tho'  oft  the  ear  the  open  vowels  tire ;  145 

While  expletives  their  feeble  aid  do  join ; 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line : 

While  they  ring  round  the  same  unvary'd  chimes, 

With  sure  returns  of  still  expected  rhymes  ; 

Where'er  you  find  '  the  cooling  western  breeze,'  150 

In  the  next  line,  it  '  whispers  through  the  trees:' 

If  crystal  streams  '  with  pleasing  murmurs  creep,' 

The  reader's  threatened,  not  in  vain,  with  '  sleep : ' 

Then,  at  the  last  and  only  couplet  fraught 

With  some  unmeaning  thing  they  call  a  thought,  155 

A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song, 

That,  like  a  wounded  snake,  drags  its  slow  length  along. 

Leave  such  to  tune  their  own  dull  rhymes,  and  know 

What's  roundly  smooth,  or  languishingly  slow  ; 

And  praise  the  easy  vigor  of  a  fine,  160 

Where  Denham's  strength,  and  Waller's  sweetness  join. 

True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance. 

As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learned  to  dance. 

'Tis  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence, 

The  sound  must  seem  an  echo  to  the  sense.  165 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows. 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows  ; 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore. 

The  hoarse,  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar  : 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw,      i-o 

The  line  too  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow: 

Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain. 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

Here  how  Timotheus'  varied  lays  surprise. 

And  bid  alternate  passions  fall  and  rise  !  175 

While,  at  each  change,  the  son  of  Libyan  Jove 

Now  burns  with  glory,  and  then  melts  with  love  ; 

Now  his  fierce  eyes  with  sparkling  fury  glow, 

Now  sighs  steal  out,  and  tears  begin  to  flow  : 


112  THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

Persians  and  Greeks  like  turns  of  nature  found,  iSo 

And  the  world's  victor  stood  subdued  by  sound  ! 
The  pow'r  of  music  all  our  hearts  allow, 
And  what  Timotheus  was,  is  Dryden  now. 

Avoid  extremes  ;  and  shun  the  fault  of  such, 
Who  still  are  pleased  too  little  or  too  much.  185 

At  ev'ry  trifle  scorn  to  take  offence, 
That  always  shows  great  pride,  or  little  sense  : 
Those  heads,  as  stomachs,  are  not  sure  the  best. 
Which  nauseate  all,  and  nothing  can  digest. 
Yet  let  not  each  gay  turn  thy  rapture  move  ;  190 

For  fools  admire,  but  men  of  sense  approve : 
As  things  seem  large  which  we  through  mists  descry, 
Dulness  is  ever  apt  to  magnify. 

Some  foreign  writers,  some  our  own  despise ; 
The  ancients  only,  or  the  moderns  prize.  195 

Thus  wit,  like  faith,  by  each  man  is  applied 
To  one  small  sect,  and  all  are  damned  beside. 
Meanly  they  seek  the  blessing  to  confine. 
And  force  that  sun  but  on  a  part  to  shine. 
Which  not  alone  the  southern  wit  sublimes,  200 

But  ripens  spirits  in  cold  northern  climes  ; 
Which  from  the  first  has  shone  on  ages  past, 
Enlights  the  present,  and  shall  warm  the  last ; 
Though  each  may  feel  increases  and  decays. 
And  see  now  clearer  and  now  darker  days  :  205 

Regard  not  then  if  wit  be  old  or  new, 
But  blame  the  false,  and  value  still  the  true. 


POPE  I  I  3 

AN    ESSAY   ON    MAN 

EPISTLE   I 

II 

Presumptuous  man  !  the  reason  wpuldst  thou  find, 
Why  formed  so  weak,  so  Httle,  and  so  bhnd  ? 
First,  if  thou  canst,  the  harder  reason  guess. 
Why  formed  no  weaker,  bUnder,  and  no  less? 
Ask  of  thy  mother  earth,  why  oaks  are  made  5 

Taller  or  stronger  than  the  weeds  they  shade ! 
Or  ask  of  yonder  argent  fields  above 
Why  Jove's  satellites  are  less  than  Jove  ! 

Of  systems  possible,  if  'tis  confessed 
That  wisdom  infinite  must  form  the  best,  lo 

Where  all  must  full  or  not  coherent  be. 
And  all  that  rises,  rise  in  due  degree. 
Then,  in  the  scale  of  reas'ning  life,  'tis  plain, 
There  must  be,  somewhere,  such  a  rank  as  man : 
And  all  the  question  (wrangle  e'er  so  long)  15 

Is  only  this,  if  God  has  placed  him  wrong. 

Respecting  man,  whatever  wrong  we  call. 
May,  must  be  right,  as  relative  to  all. 
In  human  works,  though  labored  on  with  pain, 
A  thousand  movements  scarce  one  purpose  gain ;  20 

In  God's,  one  single  can  its  end  produce  ; 
Yet  serves  to  second  too  some  other  use. 
So  man,  who  here  seems  principal  alone. 
Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown, 
Touches  some  wheel,  or  verges  to  some  goal ;  25 

'Tis  but  a  part  we  see,  and  not  a  whole. 

When  the  proud  steed  shall  know  why  man  restrains 
His  fiery  course,  or  drives  him  o'er  the  plains  ; 
When  the  dull  ox,  why  now  he  breaks  the  clod. 
Is  now  a  victim,  and  now  Egypt's  god  ;  30 

ENG.   POEMS —  8 


114  THE   PERIOD   OF   CLASSICISM 

Then  shall  man's  pride  and  dulness  comprehend 
His  actions',  passions',  being's,  use  and  end  ; 
Why  doing,  suff'ring,  checked,  impelled  ;  and  why 
This  hour  a  slave,  the  next  a  deity. 

Then  say  not  man's  imperfect,  heav'n  in  fault ;  35 

Say  rather,  man's  as  perfect  as  he  ought : 
His  knowledge  measured  to  his  state  and  place, 
His  time  a  moment,  and  a  point  his  space. 
If  to  be  perfect  in  a  certain  sphere, 

What  matter,  soon  or  late,  or  here  or  there  ?  40 

The  bless'd  to-day  is  as  completely  so. 
As  who  began  a  thousand  years  ago. 


Heav'n  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescribed,  their  present  state  ; 
From  brutes  what  men,  from  men  what  spirits  know  ;  45 

Or  who  could  suffer  being  here  below  ? 
The  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to  bleed  to-day, 
Had  he  thy  reason,  would  he  skip  and  play  ? 
Pleased  to  the  last,  he  crops  the  flow'ry  food, 
And  licks  the  hand  just  raised  to  shed  his  blood.  50 

O  blindness  to  the  future  !  kindly  giv'n, 
That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  heav'n  : 
Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 
A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall, 

Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurled,  55 

And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world. 

Hope  humbly  then  ;  with  trembling  pinions  soar; 
Wait  the  great  teacher  death  ;  and  God  adore. 
What  future  bliss,  he  gives  not  thee  to  know. 
But  gives  that  hope  to  be  thy  blessing  now.  60 

Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast ; 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blessed. 


POPE  1 1  5 

The  soul,  uneasy,  and  confined  from  home. 
Rests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come.    • 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian  !  whose  untutored  mind  65 

Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  him  in  the  wind ; 
His  soul  proud  science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  solar  walk,  or  milky  way  ; 
Yet  simple  nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n, 

Behind  the  cloud-topped  hill,  an  humbler  heav'n  ;  70 

Some  safer  world  in  depth  of  woods  embraced, 
Some  happier  island  in  the  wat'ry  waste. 
Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 
No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold. 
To  be,  contents  his  natural  desire  ;  75 

He  asks  no  angel's  wing,  no  seraph's  fire; 
But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky. 
His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 


I  l6  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

THE   PERIOD   OF   TRANSITION 

JAMES    THOMSON 

1 700-1 748 

From   WINTER 

The  keener  tempests  come  ;  and  fuming  dun 
From  all  the  livid  east,  or  piercing  north, 
Thick  clouds  ascend  ;  in  whose  capacious  womb 
A  vapory  deluge  lies,  to  snow  congealed. 
Heavy  they  roll  their  fleecy  world  along ;  5 

And  the  sky  saddens  with  the  gathered  storm. 
Through  the  hushed  air  the  whitening  shower  descends, 
At  first  thin  wavering;  till  at  last  the  flakes 
Fall  broad,  and  wide,  and  fast,  dimming  the  day 
With  a  continual  flow.      The  cherished  fields  10 

Put  on  their  winter-robe  of  purest  white. 
'Tis  brightness  all ;  save  where  the  new  snow  melts 
Along  the  mazy  current.     Low,  the  woods 
Bow  their  hoar  head  ;  and  ere  the  languid  sun, 
Faint  from  the  west,  emits  his  evening  ray,  15 

Earth's  universal  face,  deep-hid  and  chill, 
In  one  wild  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 
The  work  of  man.     Drooping,  the  laborer-ox 
Stands  covered  o'er  with  snow,  and  then  demands 
The  fruit  of  all  his  toil.     The  fowls  of  heaven,  20 

Tamed  by  the  cruel  season,  crowd  around 
The  winnowing  store,  and  claim  the  little  boon 
Which  Providence  assigns  them.     One  alone, 
The  redbreast,  sacred  to  the  household  gods, 
Wisely  regardful  of  the  embroiling  sky,  25 

In  joyless  fields  and  thorny  thickets  leaves 


THOMSON  I  1  7 

His  shivering  mates,  and  pays  to  trusted  man 
His  annual  visit.     Half-afraid,  he  first 
Against  the  window  beats  ;  then,  brisk,  alights 
On  the  warm  hearth  ;  then,  hopping  o'er  the  fioor,  30 

Eyes  all  the  smiling  family  askance, 
And  pecks,  and  starts,  and  wonders  where  he  is  ; 
Till,  more  familiar  grown,  the  table-crumbs 
Attract  his  slender  feet.     The  foodless  wilds 
Pour  forth  their  brown  inhabitants.     The  hare,  35 

Though  timorous  of  heart,  and  hard  beset 
By  death  in  various  forms,  dark  snares,  and  dogs, 
And  more  unpitying  men,  the  garden  seeks, 
Urged  on  by  fearless  want.     The  bleating  kind 
Eye  the  black  heaven,  and  next  the  glistening  earth,  40 

With  looks  of  dumb  despair;  then,  sad  —  dispersed, 
Dig  for  the  withered  herb  through  heaps  of  snow. 
Now,  shepherds,  to  your  helpless  charge  be  kind  ; 
Baffle  the  raging  year,  and  fill  their  pens 
With  food  at  will ;  lodge  them  below  the  storm,  43 

And  watch  them  strict :  for,  from  the  bellowing  east. 
In  this  dire  season,  oft  the  whirlwind's  wing 
Sweeps  up  the  burden  of  whole  wintry  plains 
In  one  wide  waft,  and  o'er  the  hapless  flocks, 
Hid  in  the  hollow  of  two  neighboring  hills.,  50 

The  billowy  tempest  whelms  ;  till,  upward  urged. 
The  valley  to  a  shining  mountain  swells. 
Tipped  with  a  wreath  high-curling  in  the  sky. 


Il8  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 


RULE,    BRITANNIA 

When  Britain  first,  at  Heaven's  command, 

Arose  from  out  the  azure  main, 
This  was  the  charter  of  the  land, 

And  guardian  angels  sang  the  strain. 
'  Rule,  Britannia,  rule  the  waves  ; 
Britons  never  will  be  slaves.' 


The  nations,  not  so  blest  as  thee, 

Must  in  their  turns,  to  tyrants  fall ; 
Whilst  thou  shalt  flourish  great  and  free, 

The  dread  and  envy  of  them  all.  lo 

'Rule,'  etc. 

Still  more  majestic  shalt  thou  rise, 

More  dreadful  from  each  foreign  stroke ; 

As  the  loud  blast  that  tears  the  skies 
Serves  but  to  root  thy  native  oak. 
'Rule,'  etc. 

Thee  haughty  tyrants  ne'er  shall  tame ;  15 

All  their  attempts  to  bend  thee  down 
Will  but  arouse  thy  generous  flame, 

And  work  their  woe,  and  thy  renown. 
'Rule,'  etc. 

To  thee  belongs  the  rural  reign  ; 

Thy  cities  sliall  with  commerce  shine ;  20 

All  thine  shall  be  the  subject  main  ; 

And  every  shore  it  circles,  thine  ! 
'  Rule,'  etc. 


WESLEY  119 

The  Muses,  still  with  freedom  found, 

Shall  to  thy  happy  coast  repair : 
Blest  isle  !  with  matchless  beauty  crowned,  .  25 

And  manly  hearts  to  guard  the  fair  : 
'  Rule,  Britannia,  rule  the  waves, 
Britons  never  will  be  slaves.' 


CHARLES  WESLEY 

1707-1788 

JESUS,   LOVER   OF   MY   SOUL 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly. 

While  the  nearer  waters  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  nigh  ! 

Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide,  5 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past. 

Safe  into  the  haven  guide  ; 

O  receive  my  soul  at  last ! 

Other  refuge  have  I  none  ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ;  10 

Leave,  ah  !   leave  me  not  alone, 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ! 

All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stay'd, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring : 

Cover  my  defenceless  head  15 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing  ! 

Wilt  Thou  not  regard  my  call  ? 
Wilt  Thou  not  accept  my  prayer  ? 
Lo  !  I  sink,  I  faint,  I  fall ! 


I20  THE   PERIOD    OF   TRANSITION 

Lo  !  on  Thee  I  cast  my  care  !  20 

Reach  me  out  Thy  gracious  hand ! 
While  I  of  Thy  strength  receive, 
Hoping  against  hope  I  stand, 
Dying,  and  behold  I  live  ! 

Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want ;  25 

More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find : 

Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind  ! 

Just  and  holy  is  Thy  Name ; 

I  am  all  unrighteousness  ;  30 

False  and  full  of  sin  I  am, 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Plenteous  grace  with  Thee  is  found, 

Grace  to  cover  all  my  sin  ; 

Let  the  healing  streams  abound  ;  35 

Make  and  keep  me  pure  within ! 

Thou  of  Life  the  Fountain  art, 

Freely  let  me  take  of  Thee  ; 

Spring  Thou  up  within  my  heart ! 

Rise  to  all  eternity  !  40 


THOMAS  GRAY 

1716-1771 

ELEGY   WRITTEN    IN    A    COUNTRY    CHURCHYARD 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day, 
The  lowing  herd  wind  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 

The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 


GRAY  I  2  I 

Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight,  5 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds, 
Save  where  the  beetle  wheels  his  droning  flight. 

And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds  : 

Save  that  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tow'r, 

The  moping  owl  does  to  the  moon  complain  10 

Of  such  as,  wand'ring  near  her  secret  bow'r, 

Molest  her  ancient  solitary  reign. 

Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew-tree's  shade. 
Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mould'ring  heap, 

Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid,  15 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep. 

The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  Morn, 

The  swallow  twitt'ring  from  the  straw-built  shed. 

The  cock's  shrill  clarion,  or  the  echoing  horn, 

No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed.  20 

For  them  no  more  the  blazing  hearth  shall  burn. 

Or  busy  housewife  ply  her  evening  care  : 
No  children  run  to  lisp  their  sire's  return, 

Or  climb  his  knees  the  envied  kiss  to  share. 

Oft  did  the  harvest  to  their  sickle  yield,  25 

Their  furrow  oft  the  stubborn  glebe  has  broke : 

How  jocund  did  they  drive  their  team  afield  ! 

How  bow'd  the  woods  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke  ! 

Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 

Their  homely  joys  and  destiny  obscure  ;  30 

Nor  Grandeur  hear,  with  a  disdainful  smile, 

The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor. 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  pow'r. 
And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 


122  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

Await  alike  th'  inevitable  hour.  35 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

Nor  you,  ye  proud,  impute  to  these  the  fault, 
If  Mem'ry  o'er  their  tomb  no  trophies  raise. 

Where,  thro'  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault 

The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise.  40 

Can  storied  urn  or  animated  bust 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 

Can  Honour's  voice  provoke  the  silent  dust, 
Or  Flatt'ry  soothe  the  dull  cold  ear  of  Death  ? 

Perhaps  in  this  neglected  spot  is  laid  45 

Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire  ; 

Hands  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  sway'd, 
Or  wak'd  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre. 

But  Knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ample  page. 

Rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,  did  ne'er  unroll ;  50 

Chill  Penury  repress'd  their  noble  rage, 
And  froze  the  genial  current  of  their  soul. 

Full  many  a  gem' of  purest  ray  serene, 

The  dark  unfathom'd  caves  of  ocean  bear: 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen,  55 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air. 

Some  village  Hampden,  that  with  dauntless  breast 
The  little  Tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood, 

Some  mute  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest, 

Some  Cromwell  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood.  60 

Th'  applause  of  list'ning  senates  to  command. 
The  threats  of  pain  and  ruin  to  despise, 

To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land, 
And  read  their  hist'ry  in  a  nation's  eyes. 


GRAY  123 

Their  lot  forbade  ;  nor  circumscrib'd  alone  65 

Their  growing  virtues,  but  their  crimes  confin'd  ; 

Forbade  to  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne, 
And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind. 

The  struggling  pangs  of  conscious  truth  to  hide, 

To  quench  the  blushes  of  ingenuous  shame,  70 

Or  heap  the  shrine  of  Luxury  and  Pride 
With  incense  kindled  at  the  Muse's  flame. 

Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife, 
Their  sober  wishes  never  learn 'd  to  stray; 

Along  the  cool  sequester'd  vale  of  life  75 

They  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way. 

Yet  ev'n  these  bones  from  insult  to  protect 

Some  frail  memorial  still  erected  nigh. 
With  uncouth  rhymes  and  shapeless  sculpture  deck'd, 

Implores  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh.  80 

Their  name,  their  years,  spelt  by  th'  unlettered  muse. 

The  place  of  fame  and  elegy  supply : 
And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews, 

That  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die. 

For  who,  to  dumb  Forgetfulness  a  prey,  85 

This  pleasing  anxious  being  e'er  resign'd, 

Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day. 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  ling'ring  look  behind  ? 

On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies, 

Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires  ;  90 

Ev'n  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  Nature  cries, 
Ev'n  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

For  thee,  who,  mindful  of  th'  unhonored  dead, 
Dost  in  these  lines  their  artless  tale  relate  ; 


124  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

If  chance,  by  lonely  contemplation  led,  95 

Some  kindred  spirit  shall  inquire  thy  fate,  — 

Haply  some  hoary-headed  Swain  may  say, 
'  Oft  have  we  seen  him  at  the  peep  of  dawn 

Brushing  with  hasty  steps  the  dews  away 

To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn.  100 

'  There  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech. 
That  wreathes  its  old  fantastic  roots  so  high. 

His  lisdess  length  at  noontide  would  he  stretch, 
And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by. 

'  Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling  as  in  scorn,  105 

Mutt'ring  his  wayward  fancies  he  would  rove, 

Now  drooping,  woeful  wan,  like  one  forlorn, 
Or  craz'd  with  care,  or  cross'd  in  hopeless  love. 

'  One  morn  I  miss'd  him  on  the  'customed  hill. 

Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  fav'rite  tree ;  no 

Another  came  ;  nor  yet  beside  the  rill. 

Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood  was  he  : 

'  The  next,  with  dirges  due  in  sad  array 

Slow  thro'  the  church-way  path  we  saw  him  borne,  — 
Approach  and  read  (for  thou  canst  read)  the  lay  115 

Grav'd  on  the  stone  beneath  yon  aged  thorn.' 

THE     EPITAPH 

Here  rests  his  head  upon  the  lap  of  Earth 
'    A  Youth,  to  Fortune  and  to  Fame  unknown.  — 
Fair  Science  frown'd  not  on  his  humble  birth, 

And  Melancholy  7nark'd  him  for  her  own.  120 

Large  was  his  bounty,  and  his  soul  sincere, 
Heav'n  did  a  recompense  as  largely  setid : 


GRAY  125 

He  gave  to  MisWy  all  he  kad,  a  tear, 

He  gain  d  from  Heaven  i^tivas  all  he  zvish'd)  a  friend. 

No  further  seek  his  merits  to  disclose,  125 

Or  draw  his  frailties  f'om  their  dread  abode, 

{There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose^ 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 

THE   BARD 


'  Ruin  seize  thee,  ruthless  King ! 

Confusion  on  thy  banners  wait, 
Tho'  fann'd  by  Conquest's  crimson  wing 

They  mock  the  air  with  idle  state. 
Helm,  nor  hauberk's  twisted  mail. 
Nor  e'en  thy  virtues,  Tyrant,  shall  avail 

To  save  thy  secret  soul  from  nightly  fears, 

From  Cambria's  curse,  from  Cambria's  tears  ! ' 
Such  were  the  sounds  that  o'er  the  crested  pride 

Of  the  first  Edward  scatter'd  wild  dismay,  i 

As  down  the  steep  of  Snowdon's  shaggy  side 

He  wound  with  toilsome  march  his  long  array. 
Stout  Glo'ster  stood  aghast  in  speechless  trance  ; 
'  To  arms  !  '  cried  Mortimer,  and  couch'd  his  quiv'ring  lance. 


On  a  rock,  whose  haughty  brow  15 

Frowns  o'er  old  Conway's  foaming  flood, 

Robed  in  the  sable  garb  of  woe, 
With  haggard  eyes  the  poet  stood  ; 
(Loose  his  beard,  and  hoary  hair 

Stream 'd  like  a  meteor,  to  the  troubled  air)  20 

And  with  a  master's  hand  and  prophet's  fire, 
Struck  the  deep  sorrows  of  his  lyre  : 


126  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

'  Hark,  how  each  giant-oak,  and  desert  cave, 
Sighs  to  the  torrent's  awful  voice  beneath  ! 
O'er  thee,  oh  King!  their  hundred  arms  they  wave,  25 

Revenge  on  thee  in  hoarser  murmurs  breathe ; 
Vocal  no  more,  since  Cambria's  fatal  day, 
To  high-born  Hoel's  harp,  or  soft  Llewellyn's  lay. 

I-   3 

*  Cold  is  Cadwallo's  tongue. 

That  hushed  the  stormy  main  ;  30 

Brave  Urien  sleeps  upon  his  craggy  bed : 

Mountains,  ye  mourn  in  vain 

Modred,  whose  magic  song 
Made  huge  Plinlimmon  bow  his  cloud-topp'd  head. 

On  dreary  Arvon's  shore  they  lie,  35 

Smear'd  with  gore,  and  ghastly  pale  : 
Far,  far  aloof  th'  affrighted  ravens  sail ; 

The  famish'd  eagle  screams,  and  passes  by. 
Dear  lost  companions  of  my  tuneful  art, 

Dear,  as  the  light  that  visits  these  sad  eyes,  40 

Dear,  as  the  ruddy  drops  that  warm  my  heart, 

Ye  died  amidst  your  dying  country's  cries  — 
No  more  I  weep.     They  do  not  sleep. 

On  yonder  cliffs,  a  griesly  band, 
I  see  them  sit,  they  linger  yet,  45 

Avengers  of  their  native  land  : 
With  me  in  dreadful  harmony  they  join. 
And  weave  with  bloody  hands  the  tissue  of  thy  line:  — 


'  Weave  the  warp,  and  weave  the  woof, 
The  winding-sheet  of  Edward's  race  :  50 

Give  ample  room,  and  verge  enough 
The  characters  of  hell  to  trace. 


GRAY  127 

Mark  the  year,  and  mark  the  night, 

When  Severn  shall  re-echo  with  affright 

The  shrieks  of  death,  thro'  Berkley's  roofs  that  ring,  55 

Shrieks  of  an  agonizing  King  ! 

She-wolf  of  France,  with  unrelenting  fangs 
That  tear'st  the  bowels  of  thy  mangled  Mate, 

From  thee  be  born,  who  o'er  thy  country  hangs 
The  scourge  of  Heaven.     What  Terrors  round  him  wait !      60 
Amazement  in  his  van,  with  Flight  combined, 
And  Sorrow's  faded  form,  and  Solitude  behind. 


'  Mighty  victor,  mighty  lord  ! 
Low  on  his  funeral  couch  he  lies  I 

No  pitying  heart,  no  eye,  afford  65 

A  tear  to  grace  his  obsequies. 

Is  the  sable  warrior  fled  ? 
Thy  son  is  gone.     He  rests  among  the  dead. 
The  swarm  that  in  thy  noontide  beam  were  born  ? 
Gone  to  salute  the  rising  morn.  70 

Fair  laughs  the  morn,  and  soft  the  zephyr  blows. 

While  proudly  riding  o'er  the  azure  realm 
In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes ; 

Youth  on  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm  ; 
Regardless  of  the  sweeping  whirlwind's  sway,  75 

That,  hush'd  in  grim  repose,  expects  his  evening  prey. 

"•   3 

'  Fill  high  the  sparkling  bowl, 
The  rich  repast  prepare  ; 

Reft  of  a  crown,  he  yet  may  share  the  feast. 
Close  by  the  regal  chair  80 

Fell  Thirst  and  Famine  scowl 

A  baleful  smile  upon  their  baffled  guest. 


128  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

Heard  ye  the  din  of  battle  bray, 

Lance  to  lance,  and  horse  to  horse? 

Long  years  of  havoc  urge  their  destined  course,  85 

And  thro'  the  kindred  squadrons  mow  their  way. 

Ye  towers  of  JuHus,  London's  lasting  shame. 
With  many  a  foul  and  midnight  murder  fed. 

Revere  his  consort's  faith,  his  father's  fame, 
And  spare  the  meek  usurper's  holy  head.  90 

Above,  below,  the  rose  of  snow, 

Twin'd  with  her  blushing  foe,  we  spread  : 
The  bristled  boar  in  infant  gore 

Wallows  beneath  the  thorny  shade. 
Now,  brothers,  bending  o'er  the  accursed  loom  95 

Stamp  we  our  vengeance  deep,  and  ratify  his  doom. 

III.    I 

'  Edward,  lo  !  to  sudden  fate 
(Weave  we  the  woof.     The  thread  is  spun) 

Half  of  thy  heart  we  consecrate. 
(The  web  is  wove.     The  work  is  done.)  —  100 

Stay,  oh  stay  !  nor  thus  forlorn 
Leave  me  unbless'd,  un pitied,  here  to  mourn  ! 
In  yon  bright  track,  that  fires  the  western  skies. 
They  melt,  they  vanish  from  my  eyes. 
But  oh  !  what  solemn  scenes  on  Snowdon's  height  105 

Descending  slow  their  glitt'ring  skirts  unroll.? 
Visions  of  glory  spare  my  aching  sight, 

Ye  unborn  ages  crowd  not  on  my  soul ! 
No  more  our  long-lost  Arthur  we  bewail. 
All-hail,  ye  genuine  kings,  Britannia's  issue,  hail!  no 

III.    2 

'  Girt  with  many  a  baron  bold 
Sublime  their  starry  fronts  they  rear ; 


GRAY  129 

And  gorgeous  dames,  and  statesmen  old 
In  bearded  majesty  appear. 

In  the  midst  a  form  divine  !  115 

Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Briton  line  ; 
Her  lion  port,  her  awe-commanding  face, 
Attemper'd  sweet  to  virgin  grace. 
What  strings  symphonious  tremble  in  the  air. 

What  strains  of  vocal  transport  round  her  play !  120 

Hear  from  the  grave,  great  Taliessin,  hear ; 

They  breathe  a  soul  to  animate  thy  clay. 
Bright  Rapture  calls,  and  soaring,  as  she  sings. 
Waves  in  the  eye  of  Heav'n  her  many-color'd  wings. 

III.    3 

*  The  verse  adorn  again  125 

Fierce  War  and  faithful  Love, 
And  Truth  severe,  by  fairy  Fiction  drest. 

In  buskin 'd  measures  move 
Pale  Grief,  and  pleasing  Pain, 
With  Horror,  tyrant  of  the  throbbing  breast.  130 

A  Voice,  as  of  the  cherub-choir, 
Gales  from  blooming  Eden  bear ; 
And  distant  warblings  lessen  on  my  ear, 

That  lost  in  long  futurity  expire. 
Fond  impious  man,  think'st  thou,   yon  sanguine  cloud,  135 

Rais'd  by  thy  breath,  has  quench'd  the  orb  of  day? 
To-morrow  he  repairs  the  golden  flood. 

And  warms  the  nations  with  redoubled  ray. 
Enough  for  me  :  With  joy  I  see 

The  different  doom  our  fates  assign.  140 

Be  thine  Despair,  and  scept'red  Care, 

To  triumph,  and  to  die,  are  mine.' — 
He  spoke,  and  headlong  from  the  mountain's  height 
Deep  in  the  roaring  tide  he  plung'd  to  endless  night. 

ENG.    POEMS  —  9 


I30  THE   PERIOD    OF   TRANSITION 

WILLIAM    COLLINS 

1721-1759 
A  SONG  FROM  SHAKESPEARE'S  CYMBELINE 

To  fair  Fidele's  grassy  tomb 

Soft  maids  and  village  hinds  shall  bring 

Each  op'ning  sweet  of  earliest  bloom, 
And  rifle  all  the  breathing  spring. 

No  wailing  ghost  shall  dare  appear 
To  vex  with  shrieks  this  quiet  grove  ; 

But  shepherd  lads  assemble  here, 
And  melting  virgins  own  their  love. 

No  withered  witch  shall  here  be  seen  ; 

No  goblins  lead  their  nightly  crew  : 
The  female  fays  shall  haunt  the  green, 

And  dress  thy  grave  with  pearly  dew  ! 

The  redbreast  oft,  at  evening  hours, 

Shall  kindly  lend  his  little  aid. 
With  hoary  moss,  and  gather 'd  flowers. 

To  deck  the  ground  where  thou  art  laid. 

When  howling  winds,  and  beating  rain, 
In  tempests  shake  the  sylvan  cell ; 

Or  "midst  the  chase  on  every  plain. 

The  tender  thought  on  thee  shall  dwell ; 

Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore  ; 

For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed  ; 
Belov'd  till  life  could  charm  no  more. 

And  mourn'd  till  Pity's  self  be  dead. 


IS 


COLLINS  1 3 1 

ODE    TO    EVENING 

If  aught  of  oaten  stop,  or  pastoral  song, 

May  hope,  chaste  eve,  to  soothe  thy  modest  ear, 

Like  thy  own  solemn  springs. 

Thy  springs,  and  dying  gales, 

O  nymph  reserved,  while  now  the  bright-haired  sun         5 
Sits  in  yon  western  tent,  whose  cloudy  skirts, 

With  brede  ethereal  wove, 

O'erhang  his  wavy  bed  : 

Now  air  is  hushed,  save  where  the  weak-eyed  bat 

With  short,  shrill  shriek,  flits  by  on  leathern  wing ;  10 

Or  where  the  beetle  winds 

His  small  but  sullen  horn. 

As  oft  he  rises  'midst  the  twilight  path, 
Against  the  pilgrim  borne  in  heedless  hum : 

Now  teach  me,  maid  composed,  15 

To  breathe  some  softened  strain. 

Whose  numbers,  stealing  thro'  thy  darkening  vale. 
May,  not  unseemly,  with  its  stillness  suit. 

As,  musing  slow,  I  hail 

Thy  genial  loved  return !      '  20 

For  when  thy  folding-star  arising  shows 
His  paly  circlet,  as  his  warning  lamp 

The  fragrant  hours,,  and  elves 

Who  slept  in  flowers  the  day. 

And  many  a  nymph  who  wreathes  her  brows  with  sedge, 
And  sheds  the  freshening  dew,  and,  lovelier  still,  26 

The  pensive  pleasures  sweet 

Prepare  thy  shadowy  car. 


132  THE   TERIOD    OF   TRANSITION 

Then  lead,  calm  votaress,  where  some  sheety  lake 
Cheers  the  lone  heath,  or  some  time-hallowed  pile,  30 

Or  upland  fallows  grey 

Reflect  its  last  cool  gleam. 

But  when  chill  blustering  winds,  or  driving  rain, 
Forbid  my  willing  feet,  be  mine  the  hut, 

That  from  the  mountain's  side,  35 

"V^iews  wilds,  and  swelling  floods, 

And  hamlets  brown,  and  dim-discover'd  spires  ; 
And  hears  their  simple  bell,  and  marks  o'er  all 

Thy  dewy  fingers  draw 

The  gradual  dusky  veil.  40 

While  spring  shall  pour  his  showers,  as  oft  he  wont, 
And  bathe  thy  breathing  tresses,  meekest  eve  ! 

While  summer  loves  to  sport 

Beneath  thy  lingering  light; 

While  sallow  autumn  fills  thy  lap  with  leaves  ;  45 

Or  winter,  yelling  through  the  troublous  air, 

Affrights  thy  shrinking  train, 

And  rudely  rends  thy  robes  ; 

So  long,  sure  —  found  beneath  the  sylvan  shed. 

Shall  fancy,  friendship,  science,  rose-lipp'd  health,  50 

Thy  gentlest  influence  own, 

And  hymn  thy  fav'rite  name  ! 


GOLDSMITH  1 33 

OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

1728-1774 
THE   DESERTED   VILLAGE 

Sweet  Auburn  !  loveliest  village  of  the  plain, 
Where  health  and  plenty  cheered  the  laboring  swain, 
Where  smiling  spring  its  earliest  visit  paid. 
And  parting  summer's  lingering  blooms  delayed  : 
Dear  lovely  bowers  of  innocence  and  ease,  5 

Seats  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport  could  please, 
How  often  have  I  loiter'd  o'er  thy  green. 
Where  humble  happiness  endeared  each  scene  ! 
How  often  have  I  paused  on  every  charm, 
The  sheltered  cot,  the  cultivated  farm,  10 

The  never-failing  brook,  the  busy  mill. 
The  decent  church  that  topt  the  neighboring  hill. 
The  hawthorn  bush,  with  seats  beneath  the  shade. 
For  talking  age  and  whispering  lovers  made  ! 
How  often  have  I  blest  the  coming  day,  15 

When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play. 
And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free, 
Led  up  their  sports  beneath  the  spreading  tree. 
While  many  a  pastime  circled  in  the  shade. 
The  young  contending  as  the  old  surveyed  ;  20 

And  many  a  gambol  frolicked  o'er  the  ground. 
And  sleights  of  art  and  feats  of  strength  went  round. 
And  still  as  each  repeated  pleasure  tired. 
Succeeding  sports  the  mirthful  band  inspired; 
The  dancing  pair  that  simply  sought  renown,  25 

By  holding  out  to  tire  each  other  down  ; 
The  swain  mistrustless  of  his  smutted  face. 
While  secret  laughter  tittered  round  the  place ; 
The  bashful  virgin's  side-long  looks  of  love, 


134  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

The  matron's  glance  that  would  those  looks  reprove.  50 

These  were  thy  charms,  sweet  village  !  sports  like  these, 
With  sweet  succession,  taught  even  toil  to  please  ; 
These  round  thy  bowers  their  cheerful  influence  shed, 
These  were  thy  charms  —  but  all  these  charms  are  fled. 

Sweet  smiling  village,  loveliest  of  the  lawn,  35 

Thy  sports  are  fled,  and  all  thy  charms  withdrawn  ; 
Amidst  thy  bowers  the  tyrant's  hand  is  seen, 
And  desolation  saddens  all  thy  green  : 
One  only  master  grasps  the  whole  domain, 
And  half  a  tillage  stints  thy  smiling  plain  ;  40 

No  more  thy  glassy  brook  reflects  the  day, 
But,  choked  with  sedges,  works  its  weedy  way. 
Along  thy  glades,  a  solitary  guest. 
The  hollow-sounding  bittern  guards  its  nest  ; 
Amidst  thy  desert-walks  the  lapwing  flies,  45 

And  tires  their  echoes  with  unvaried  cries. 
Sunk  are  thy  bowers  in  shapeless  ruin  all. 
And  the  long  grass  o'ertops  the  mouldering  wall ; 
And  trembling,  shrinking  from  the  spoiler's  hand, 
Far,  far  away,  thy  children  leave  the  land.  50 

111  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey. 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay: 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade  ; 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made  : 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride,  55 

When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied. 

A  time  there  was,  ere  England's  griefs  began. 
When  every  rood  of  ground  maintained  its  man  ; 
For  him  light  labor  spread  her  wholesome  store, 
Just  gave  what  life  required,  but  gave  no  more  :  60 

His  best  companions,  innocence  and  health  ; 
And  his  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth. 

But  times  are  altered  ;   trade's  unfeeling  train 
Usurp  the  land  and  dispossess  the  swain  ; 


GOLDSMITH  1 35 

Along  the  lawn,  where  scattered  hamlets  rose,  65 

Unwieldy  wealth  and  cumbrous  pomp  repose  ; 

And  every  want  to  opulence  allied. 

And  every  pang  that  folly  pays  to  pride. 

These  gentle  hours  that  plenty  bade  to  bloom, 

Those  calm  desires  that  asked  but  little  room,  70 

Those  healthful  sports  that  graced  the  peaceful  scene, 

Lived  in  each  look,  and  brightened  all  the  green  ; 

These,  far  departing,  seek  a  kinder  shore, 

And  rural  mirth  and  manners  are  no  more. 

Sweet  Auburn  !  parent  of  the  blissful  hour,  75 

Thy  glades  forlorn  confess  the  tyrant's  power. 
Here,  as  I  take  my  solitary  rounds. 
Amidst  thy  tangling  walks,  and  ruined  grounds, 
And,  many  a  year  elapsed,  return  to  view 
Where  once  the  cottage  stood,  the  hawthorn  grew,  80 

Remembrance  wakes  with  all  her  busy  train, 
Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to  pain. 

In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care, 
In  all  my  griefs  —  and  God  has  given  my  share  — 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  latest  hours  to  crown,  85 

Amidst  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down  ; 
To  husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose  : 
I  still  had  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still, 
Amidst  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learned  skill,  go 

Around  my  fire  an  evening  group  to  draw. 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt,  and  all  I  saw  ; 
And,  as  an  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew, 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past,  95 

Here  to  return  —  and  die  at  home  at  last. 

O  blest  retirement,  friend  to  life's  decline. 
Retreats  from  care,  that  never  must  be  mine, 
How  happy  he  who  crowns  in  shades  like  these. 


136  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

A  youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease  ;  100 

Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try, 

And,  since  'tis  hard  to  combat,  learns  to  fly  ! 

For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and  weep, 

Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous  deep ; 

No  surly  porter  stands  in  guilty  state,  105 

To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate  ; 

But  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end. 

Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend  ; 

Bends  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 

While  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way  ;  no 

And,  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 

His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be  past! 

Sweet  was  the  sound,  when  oft  at  evening's  close 
Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose  ; 
There,  as  I  past  with  careless  steps  and  slow,  115 

The  mingling  notes  came  softened  from  below  ; 
The  swain  responsive  as  the  milk-maid  sung, 
The  sober  herd  that  lowed  to  meet  their  young ; 
The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o'er  the  pool, 
The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school ;  120 

The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bayed  the  whispering  wind. 
And  the  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind ; 
These  all  in  sweet  confusion  sought  the  shade, 
And  filled  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made. 
But  now  the  sounds  of  population  fail,  125 

No  cheerful  murmurs  fluctuate  in  the  gale, 
No  busy  steps  the  grass-grown  foot-way  tread. 
For  all  the  bloomy  flush  of  life  is  fled. 
All  but  yon  widowed,  solitary  thing. 

That  feebly  bends  beside  the  plashy  spring :  130 

She,  wretched  matron,  forced  in  age,  for  bread, 
To  strip  the  brook  with  mantling  cresses  spread, 
To  pick  her  wintry  faggot  from  the  thorn. 
To  seek  her  nightly  shed,  and  weep  till  morn  ; 


GOLDSMITH  1 37 

She  only  left  of  all  the  harmless  train,  135 

The  sad  historian  of  the  pensive  plain. 

Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden  flower  grows  wild  ; 
There,  where  a  few  torn  shrubs  the  place  disclose, 
The  village  preacher's  modest  mansion  rose.  140 

A  man  he  was  to  all  ,the  country  dear, 
And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year  ; 
Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race, 
Nor  e'er  had  changed,  nor  wished  to  change  his  place  ; 
Unpractised  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power,  145 

By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour  ; 
Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  learned  to  prize, 
More  skilled  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 
His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train. 
He  chid  their  wanderings  but  relieved  their  pain  ;  150 

The  long  remembered  beggar  was  his  guest. 
Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  breast ; 
The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud. 
Claimed  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allowed  ; 
The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay,  155 

Sat  by  his  fire,  and  talked  the  night  away  ; 
Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or  tales  of  sorrow  done. 
Shouldered  his  crutch  and  showed  how  fields  were  won. 
Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to  glow. 
And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  ;  160 

Careless  their  merits,  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
And  e'en  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side ; 
But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call,  165 

He  watched  and  wept,  he  prayed  and  felt  for  all. 
And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 


138  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way.  170 

Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain  by  turns  dismayed, 
The  reverend  champion  stood.     At  his  control, 
Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul ; 
Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise,  175 

And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise. 

At  church,  with  meek  and  unafifected  grace, 
His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place  ; 
Truth  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  double  sway, 
And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray.  iSc 

The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man. 
With  steady  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 
Even  children  followed  with  endearing  wile. 
And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile. 
His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  exprest,  185 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distrest ; 
To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs  were  given. 
But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 
As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 
Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm,  igo 

Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 

Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way. 
With  blossomed  furze  unprofitably  gay. 
There  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skilled  to  rule,  195 

The  village  master  taught  his  little  school ; 
A  man  severe  he  was  and  stern  to  view, 
I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew  ; 
Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace 
The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face  ;  200 

Full  well  they  laughed  with  counterfeited  glee 
At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he  ; 
Full  well  the  busy  whisper  circling  round, 
Conveved  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frown'd  ; 


GOLDSMITH  1 39 

Yet  he  was  kind,  or,  if  severe  in  aught,  205 

The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault; 

The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew : 

'Twas  certain  he  could  write  and  cipher  too ; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage, 

And  even  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge  ;  210 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 

For  even  tho'  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still ; 

While  words  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around  ; 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew,  215 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew. 

But  past  is  all  his  fame.     The  very  spot 
Where  many  a  time  he  triumphed,  is  forgot. 
Near  yonder  thorn,  that  lifts  its  head  on  high, 
Where  once  the  sign-post  caught  the  passing  eye,  220 

Low  lies  that  house  where  nut-brown  draughts  inspired, 
Where  gray-beard  mirth  and  smiling  toil  retired. 
Where  village  statesmen  talked  with  looks  profound, 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went  round. 
Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace  225 

The  parlor  splendors  of  that  festive  place: 
The  white-washed  wall,  the  nicely  sanded  floor, 
The  varnished  clock  that  clicked  behind  the  door  ; 
The  chest  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay, 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day  ;  230 

The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  use. 
The  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of  goose ; 
The  hearth,  except  when  winter  chilled  the  day. 
With  aspen  boughs,  and  flowers  and  fennel  gay ; 
While  broken  tea-cups,  wisely  kept  for  show,  235 

Ranged  o'er  the  chimney,  glistened  in  a  row. 

Vain  transitory  splendors  !  could  not  all 
Reprieve  the  tottering  mansion  from  its  fall ! 
Obscure  it  sinks,  nor  shall  it  more  impart 


240 


140  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

An  hour's  importance  to  the  poor  man's  heart ; 

Thither  no  more  the  peasant  shall  repair 

To  sweet  oblivion  of  his  daily  care  ; 

No  more  the  farmer's  news,  the  barber's  tale, 

No  more  the  wood-man's  ballad  shall  prevail ; 

No  more  the  smith  his  dusky  brow  shall  clear,  245 

Relax  his  ponderous  strength,  and  lean  to  hear ; 

The  host  himself  no  longer  shall  be  found 

Careful  to  see  the  mantling  bliss  go  round  ; 

Nor  the  coy  maid,  half  willing  to  be  prest, 

Shall  kiss  the  cup  to  pass  it  to  the  rest.  250 

Yes  !  let  the  rich  deride,  the  proud  disdain, 
These  simple  blessings  of  the  lowly  train  ; 
To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart. 
One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art ; 
Spontaneous  joys,  where  nature  has  its  play,  255 

The  soul  adopts,  and  owns  their  first-born  sway : 
Lightly  they  frolic  o'er  the  vacant  mind, 
Unenvied,  unmolested,  unconfined. 
But  the  long  pomp,  the  midnight  masquerade, 
With  all  the  freaks  of  wanton  wealth  arrayed,  260 

In  these,  ere  triflers  half  their  wish  obtain, 
The  toiling  pleasure  sickens  into  pain  ; 
And,  even  while  fashion's  brightest  arts  decoy, 
The  heart  distrusting  asks,  if  this  be  joy. 

Ye  friends  to  truth,  ye  statesmen  who  survey  265 

The  rich  man's  joys  increase,  the  poor's  decay, 
'Tis  yours  to  judge  how  wide  the  limits  stand 
Between  a  splendid  and  an  happy  land. 
Proud  swells  the  tide  with  loads  of  freighted  ore. 
And  shouting  Folly  hails  them  from  her  shore  ;  270 

Hoards  even  beyond  the  miser's  wish  abound, 
And  rich  men  iiock  from  all  the  world  around. 
Yet  count  our  gains.      This  wealth  is  but  a  name 
That  leaves  our  useful  products  still  the  same. 


GOLDSMITH  I4I 

Not  SO  the  loss.     The  man  of  wealth  and  pride  275 

Takes  up  a  space  that  many  poor  supplied  ; 

Space  for  his  lake,  his  park's  extended  bounds, 

Space  for  his  horses,  equipage,  and  hounds  ; 

The  robe  that  wraps  his  limbs  in  silken  sloth, 

Has  robbed  the  neighboring  fields  of  half  their  growth ;    280 

His  seat,  where  solitary  sports  are  seen, 

Indignant  spurns  the  cottage  from  the  green  ; 

Around  the  world  each  needful  product  flies, 

For  all  the  luxuries  the  world  supplies  ; 

While  thus  the  land,  adorned  for  pleasure,  all  285 

In  barren  splendor  feebly  waits  the  fall. 

As  some  fair  female,  unadorned  and  plain. 
Secure  to  please  while  youth  confirms  her  reign. 
Slights  every  borrowed  charm  that  dress  supplies, 
Nor  shares  with  art  the  triumph  of  her  eyes  ;  290 

But  when  those  charms  are  past,  for  charms  are  frail, 
When  time  advances,  and  when  lovers  fail. 
She  then  shines  forth,  solicitous  to  bless, 
In  all  the  glaring  impotence  of  dress. 

Thus  fares  the  land,  by.  luxury  betrayed,  295 

In  nature's  simplest  charms  at  first  arrayed, 
But  verging  to  decline,  its  splendors  rise. 
Its  vistas  strike,  its  palaces  surprise  ; 
While,  scourged  by  famine  from  the  smiling  land, 
The  mournful  peasant  leads  his  humble  band  ;  300 

And  while  he  sinks,  without  one  arm  to  save, 
The  country  blooms  —  a  garden  and  a  grave. 

Where  then,  ah  !  where,  shall  poverty  reside. 
To  scape  the  pressure  of  contiguous  pride  ? 
If  to  some  common's  fenceless  limits  strayed  305 

He  drives  his  flock  to  pick  the  scanty  blade, 
Those  fenceless  fields  the  sons  of  wealth  divide, 
And  even  the  bare-worn  common  is  denied. 

If  to  the  city  sped  —  what  waits  him  there  ? 


142  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

To  see  profusion  that  he  must  not  share  ;  310 

To  see  ten  thousand  baneful  arts  combined 

To  pamper  luxury,  and  thin  mankind  ; 

To  see  those  joys  the  sons  of  pleasure  know 

Extorted  from  his  fellow-creature's  woe. 

Here  while  the  courtier  glitters  in  brocade,  315 

There  the  pale  artist  plies  the  sickly  trade  ; 

Here,  while  the  proud  their  long-drawn  pomps  display, 

There  the  black  gibbet  glooms  beside  the  way. 

The  dome  where  pleasure  holds  her  midnight  reign. 

Here,  richly  decked,  admits  the  gorgeous  train  ;  320 

Tumultuous  grandeur  crowds  the  blazing  square. 

The  rattling  chariots  clash,  the  torches  glare. 

Sure  scenes  like  these  no  troubles  e'er  annoy! 

Sure  these  denote  one  universal  joy  ! 

Are  these  thy  serious  thoughts  ?     Ah,  turn  thine  eyes        325 

Where  the  poor  houseless  shivering  female  lies. 

She  once,  perhaps,  in  village  plenty  blest, 

Has  wept  at  tales  of  innocence  distrest ; 

Her  modest  looks  the  cottage  might  adorn, 

Sweet  as  the  primrose  peeps  beneath  the  thorn  ;  330 

Now  lost  to  all ;  her  friends,  her  virtue  fled, 

Near  her  betrayer's  door  she  lays  her  head. 

And,  pinched  with  cold,  and  shrinking  from  the  shower. 

With  heavy  heart  deplores  that  luckless  hour, 

When  idly  first,  ambitious  of  the  town,  335 

She  left  her  wheel  and  robes  of  country  brown. 

Do  thine,  sweet  Auburn,  —  thine,  the  loveliest  train. 
Do  thy  fair  tribes  participate  her  pain  ? 
Even  now,  perhaps,  by  cold  and  hunger  led. 
At  proud  men's  doors  they  ask  a  little  bread  !  340 

Ah,  no  !     To  distant  climes,  a  dreary  scene, 
Where  half  the  convex  world  intrudes  between. 
Through  torrid  tracts  with  fainting  steps  they  go, 
Where  wild  Altama  murmurs  to  their  woe. 


GOLDSMITH  1 43 

Far  different  there  from  all  that  charmed  before,  345 

The  various  terrors  of  that  horrid  shore ; 

Those  blazing  suns  that  dart  a  downward  ray, 

And  fiercely  shed  intolerable  day ; 

Those  matted  woods,  where  birds  forget  to  sing. 

But  silent  bats  in  drowsy  clusters  cling  ;  330 

Those  poisonous  fields  with  rank  luxuriance  crowned, 

Where  the  dark  scorpion  gathers  death  around  ; 

Where  at  each  step  the  stranger  fears  to  wake 

The  rattling  terrors  of  the  vengeful  snake ; 

Where  crouching  tigers  wait  their  hapless  prey,  355 

And  savage  men  more  murderous  still  than  they ; 

While  oft  in  whirls  the  mad  tornado  flies. 

Mingling  the  ravaged  landscape  with  the  skies. 

Far  different  these  from  every  former  scene, 

The  cooling  brook,  the  grassy-vested  green,  360 

The  breezy  covert  of  the  warbling  grove, 

That  only  sheltered  thefts  of  harmless  love. 

Good  Heaven  !  what  sorrows  gloomed  that  parting  day. 
That  called  them  from  their  native  walks  away ; 
When  the  poor  exiles,  every  pleasure  past,  365 

Hung  round  the  bowers,  and  fondly  looked  their  last, 
And  took  a  long  farewell,  and  wished  in  vain 
For  seats  like  these  beyond  the  western  main  ; 
And  shuddering  still  to  face  the  distant  deep. 
Returned  and  wept,  and  still  returned  to  weep.  370 

The  good  old  sire,  the  first  prepared  to  go 
To  new-found  worlds,  and  wept  for  others'  woe ; 
But  for  himself,  in  conscious  virtue  brave. 
He  only  wished  for  worlds  beyond  the  grave. 
His  lovely  daughter,  lovelier  in  her  tears,  375 

The  fond  companion  of  his  helpless  years. 
Silent  went  next,  neglectful  of  her  charms. 
And  left  a  lover's  for  a  father's  arms. 
With  louder  plaints  the  mother  spoke  her  woes. 


144  THE   PERIOD    OF   TRANSITION 

And  blest  the  cot  where  every  pleasure  rose ;  380 

And  kist  her  thoughtless  babes  with  many  a  tear, 
And  claspt  them  close,  in  sorrow  doubly  dear ; 
Whilst  her  fond  husband  strove  to  lend  relief 
In  all  the  silent  manliness  of  grief. 

O  luxury!  thou  curst  by  Heaven's  decree,  385 

How  ill  exchang'd  are  things  like  these  for  thee ! 
How  do  thy  potions,  with  insidious  joy, 
Diffuse  their  pleasures  only  to  destroy ! 
Kingdoms  by  thee,  to  sickly  greatness  grown, 
Boast  of  a  florid  vigor  not  their  own.  3go 

At  every  draught  more  large  and  large  they  grow, 
A  bloated  mass  of  rank,  unwieldy  woe ; 
Till  sapped  their  strength,  and  every  part  unsound, 
Down,  down  they  sink,  and  spread  a  ruin  round. 

Even  now  the  devastation  is  begun,  3^2 

And  half  the  business  of  destruction  done  ; 
Even  now,  methinks,  as  pondering  here  I  stand, 
I  see  the  rural  virtues  leave  the  land. 
Down  where  yon  anchoring  vessel  spreads  the  sail 
That  idly  waiting  flaps  with  every  gale,  400 

Downward  they  move,  a  melancholy  band, 
Pass  from  the  shore,  and  darken  all  the  strand. 
Contented  toil,  and  hospitable  care. 
And  kind  connubial  tenderness,  are  there ; 
And  piety  with  wishes  placed  above,  405 

And  steady  loyalty,  and  faithful  love. 
And  thou,  sweet  Poetry,  thou  loveliest  maid, 
Still  first  to  fly  where  sensual  joys  invade  ; 
Unfit  in  these  degenerate  times  of  shame. 
To  catch  the  heart,  or  strike  for  honest  fame ;  410 

Dear  charming  nymph,  neglected  and  decried. 
My  shame  in  crowds,  my  solitary  pride ; 
Thou  source  of  all  my  bliss,  and  all  my  woe, 
That  found  st  me  poor  at  first,  and  keep'st  me  so ; 


GOLDSMITH  I45 

Thou  guide,  by  which  the  nobler  arts  excel,  415 

Thou  nurse  of  every  virtue,  fare  thee  well ! 

Farewell,  and  O  !  where'er  thy  voice  be  tried, 

On  Torno's  cliffs,  or  Pambamarca's  side, 

Whether  where  equinoctial  fervors  glow, 

Or  winter  wraps  the  polar  world  in  snow,  420 

Still  let  thy  voice,  prevailing  over  time, 

Redress  the  rigors  of  the  inclement  clime  ; 

Aid  slighted  truth  with  thy  persuasive  strain  ; 

Teach  erring  man  to  spurn  the  rage  of  gain  : 

Teach  him,  that  states  of  native  strength  possest,  425 

Though  very  poor,  may  still  be  very  blest ; 

That  trade's  proud  empire  hastes  to  swift  decay. 

As  ocean  sweeps  the  labored  mole  away ; 

While  self-dependent  power  can  time  defy, 

As  rocks  resist  the  billows  and  the  sky.  430 

WHEN   LOVELY   WOMAN    STOOPS   TO    FOLLY 

[From    The  Vicar  of  Wakefield^ 

When  lovely  Woman  stoops  to  folly. 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray. 
What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy. 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ? 

The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover,  5 

To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye, 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover, 

And  wring  his  bosom,  —  is  to  die. 


ENG.  POEMS —  10 


146  THE    PERIOD   OF   TRANSITION 

WILLIAM    COWPER 

1731-1800 

ON    THE  RECEIPT  OF   MY  MOTHER'S  PICTURE 
OUT  OF  NORFOLK 

Oh  that  those  lips  had  language  !     Life  has  passed 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last. 
Those  lips  are  thine  —  thy  own  sweet  smile  I  see, 
The  same  that  oft  in  childhood  solaced  me  ; 
Voice  only  fails,  else  how  distinct  they  say,  5 

*  Grieve  not,  my  child,  chase  all  thy  fears  away  ! ' 
The  meek  intelligence  of  those  dear  eyes 
(Blest  be  the  art  that  can  immortalize, 
The  art  that  baffles  Time's  tyrannic  claim 
To  quench  it)  here  shines  on  me  still  the  same.  10 

Faithful  remembrancer  of  one  so  dear, 

0  welcome  guest,  though  unexpected  here  ! 
Who  bidst  me  honor  with  an  artless  song, 
Affectionate,  a  mother  lost  so  long. 

1  will  obey,  not  willingly  alone,  iS 
But  gladly,  as  the  precept  were  her  own  : 

And,  while  that  face  renews  my  filial  grief, 

Fancy  shall  weave  a  charm  for  my  relief, 

Shall  steep  me  in  Elysian  reverie, 

A  momentary  dream  that  thou  art  she.  20 

My  mother  !  when  I  learnt  that  thou  wast  dead, 
Say,  wast  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  shed  ? 
Hovered  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son. 
Wretch  even  then,  life's  journey  just  begun  ? 
Perhaps  thou  gavest  me,  though  unfelt,  a  kiss :  25 

Perhaps  a  tear,  if  souls  can  weep  in  bliss  — 
Ah,  that  maternal  smile  !  it  answers  — Yes. 
I  heard  the  bell  tolled  on  thy  burial  day, 


COWPER  147 

I  saw  the  hearse  that  bore  thee  slow  away, 

And,  turning  from  my  nursery  window,  drew  30 

A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu  ! 

But  was  it  such  ?  —  It  was.  —  Where  thou  art  gone 

Adieus  and  farewells  are  a  sound  unknown. 

May  I  but  meet  thee  on  that  peaceful  shore, 

The  parting  word  shall  pass  my  Hps  no  more  !  35 

Thy  maidens,  grieved  themselves  at  my  concern. 

Oft  gave  me  promise  of  thy  quick  return. 

What  ardently  I  wished  I  long  believed. 

And,  disappointed  still,  was  still  deceived. 

By  expectation  every  day  beguiled,  40 

Dupe  of  to-morrow  even  from  a  child. 

Thus  many  a  sad  to-morrow  came  and  went, 

Till,  all  my  stock  of  infant  sorrow  spent, 

I  learnt  at  last  submission  to  my  lot ; 

But,  though  I  less  deplored  thee,  ne'er  forgot.  45 

Where  once  we  dwelt  our  name  is  heard  no  more. 
Children  not  thine  have  trod  my  nursery  floor  ; 
And  where  the  gardener  Robin,  day  by  day. 
Drew  me  to  school  along  the  public  way, 
Delighted  with  my  bauble  coach,  and  wrapped  50 

In  scarlet  mantle  warm,  and  velvet  capped, 
'Tis  now  become  a  history  Uttle  known. 
That  once  we  called  the  pastoral  house  our  own. 
Short-lived  possession  !  but  the  record  fair 
That  memory  keeps,  of  all  thy  kindness  there,  55 

.  Still  outlives  many  a  storm  that  has  effaced 
A  thousand  other  themes  less  deeply  traced. 
Thy  nightly  visits  to  my  chamber  made, 
That  thou  mightst  know  me  safe  and  warmly  laid  ; 
Thy  morning  bounties  ere  I  left  my  home,  60 

The  biscuit,  or  confectionery  plum  ; 
The  fragrant  waters  on  my  cheeks  bestowed 
By  thy  own  hand,  till  fresh  they  shone  and  glow'd  ; 


148  THE   TERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

All  this,  and  more  endearing  still  than  all, 

Thy  constant  flow  of  love,  that  knew  no  fall,  65 

Ne'er  roughened  by  those  cataracts  and  breaks 

That  humor  interposed  too  often  makes  : 

All  this  still  legible  in  memory's  page, 

And  still  to  be  so  to  my  latest  age. 

Adds  joy  to  duty,  makes  me  glad  to  pay  70 

Such  honors  to  thee  as  my  numbers  may ; 

Perhaps  a  frail  memorial,  but  sincere, 

Not  scorn'd  in  heaven,  though  little  noticed  here. 

Could  time,  his  flight  reversed,  restore  the  hours, 
When  playing  with  thy  vesture's  tissued  flowers,  75 

The  violet,  the  pink,  and  jessamine, 
I  pricked  them  into  paper  with  a  pin, 
(And  thou  wast  happier  than  myself  the  while, 
Wouldst  softly  speak,  and  stroke  my  head  and  smile). 
Could  those  few  pleasant  days  again  appear,  80 

Might  one  wish  bring  them,  would  I  wish  them  here? 
I  would  not  trust  my  heart  —  the  dear  delight 
Seems  so  to  be  desired,  perhaps  I  might.  — 
But  no  —  what  here  we  call  our  life  is  such, 
So  little  to  be  loved,  and  thou  so  much,  85 

That  I  should  iU  requite  thee  to  constrain 
Thy  unbound  spirit  into  bonds  again. 

Thou,  as  a  gallant  bark  from  Albion's  coast 
(The  storms  all  weathered  and  the  ocean  crossed) 
Shoots  into  port  at  some  well-havened  isle,  90 

Where  spices  breathe,  and  brighter  seasons  smile. 
There  sits  quiescent  on  the  floods  that  show 
Her  beauteous  form  reflected  clear  below, 
While  airs  impregnated  with  incense  play 
Around  her,  fanning  light  her  streamers  gay;  gs 

So  thou,  with  sails  how  swift !  hast  reached  the  shore, 
'Where  tempests  never  beat  nor  billows  roar,' 
And  thy  loved  consort  on  the  dangerous  tide 


BLAKE  149 

Of  life  long  since  hast  anchored  by  thy  side. 

But  me,  scarce  hoping  to  attain  that  rest,  100 

Always  from  port  withheld,  always  distressed  — 

Me  howling  blasts  drive  devious,  tempest  tost, 

Sails  ripped,  seams  opening  wide,  and  compass  lost, 

And  day  by  day  some  current's  thwarting  force 

Sets  me  more  distant  from  a  prosperous  course.  105 

Yet,  oh,  the  thought  that  thou  art  safe,  and  he  ! 

That  thought  is  joy,  arrive  what  may  to  me. 

My  boast  is  not,  that  I  deduce  my  birth 

From  loins  enthroned  and  rulers  of  the  earth  ; 

But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise —  no 

The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies  ! 

And  now,  farewell.     Time  unrevoked  has  run 

His  wonted  course,  yet  what  I  wished  is  done 

By  contemplation's  help,  not  sought  in  vain, 

I  seem  to  have  lived  my  childhood  o'er  again;  115 

To  have  renewed  the  joys  that  once  were  mine, 

Without  the  sin  of  violating  thine  : 

And,  while  the  wings  of  Fancy  still  are  free 

And  I  can  view  this  mimic  sliow  of  thee. 

Time  has  but  half  succeeded  in  his  theft —  120 

Thyself  removed,  thy  power  to  soothe  me  left. 

WILLIAM    BLAKE 

1757-1827 

TO    THE    EVENING    STAR 

Thou  fair-hair'd  angel  of  the  evening, 

Now,  whilst  the  sun  rests  on  the  mountains,  light 

Thy  bright  torch  of  love  ;  thy  radiant  crown 

Put  on,  and  smile  upon  our  evening  bed  ! 

Smile  on  our  loves,  and  while  thou  drawest  the  5 

Blue  curtains  of  the  sky,  scatter  thy  silver  dew 


I50  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

On  every  flower  that  shuts  its  sweet  eyes 

In  timely  sleep.     Let  thy  west  wind  sleep  on 

The  lake  ;  speak  silence  with  thy  ghmmering  eyes, 

And  wash  the  dusk  with  silver.     Soon,  full  soon,  lo 

Dost  thou  withdraw  ;  then  the  wolf  rages  wide, 

And  then  the  Hon  glares  through  the  dun  forest : 

The  fleeces  of  our  flocks  are  cover'd  with 

Thy  sacred  dew  :  protect  them  with  thine  influence  ! 

MAD   SONG 

The  wild  winds  weep, 

And  the  night  is  a-cold  ; 
Come  hither,  Sleep, 

And  my  griefs  enfold  !  .  .  . 
But  lo  !  the  morning  peeps  5 

Over  the  eastern  steeps. 
And  the  rustling  beds  of  dawn 

The  earth  do  scorn. 

Lo  !  to  the  vault 

Of  paved  heaven,  10 

With  sorrow  fraught, 

My  notes  are  driven  : 
They  strike  the  ear  of  Night, 

Make  weak  the  eyes  of  Day  ; 
They  make  mad  the  roaring  winds,  15 

And  with  the  tempests  play. 

Like  a  fiend  in  a  cloud, 

With  howling  woe 
After  night  I  do  crowd 

And  with  night  will  go  ;  20 

I  turn  my  back  to  the  east 
From  whence  comforts  have  increased  ; 
For  light  doth  seize  my  brain 
With  frantic  pain. 


BLAKE  I  5 1 

SONGS   OF   INNOCENCE 

INTRODUCTION 

Piping  down  the  valleys  wild, 
Piping  songs  of  pleasant  glee, 
On  a  cloud  I  saw  a  child, 
And  he,  laughing,  said  to  me: 

*  Pipe  a  song  about  a  lamb! '  s 

So  I  piped  with  merry  cheer. 
'  Piper,  pipe  that  song  again; ' 
So  I  piped:  he  wept  to  hear. 

'Drop  thy  pipe,  thy  happy  pipe; 

Sing  thy  songs  of  happy  cheer ! '  lo 

So  I  sang  the  same  again. 

While  he  wept  with  joy  to  hear. 

'  Piper,  sit  thee  down  and  write 

In  a  book,  that  all  may  read.' 

So  he  vanished  from  my  sight ;  15 

And  I  plucked  a  hollow  reed, 

And  I  made  a  rural  pen, 

And  I  stain'd  the  water  clear. 

And  I  wrote  my  happy  songs 

Every  child  may  joy  to  hear.  20 


152  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

ROBERT   BURNS 

1759-1796 
TO    A   MOUSE 

ON    TURNING  HER    UP    IN    HER    NEST    WITH    THE    PLOUGH, 
NOVEMBER,    1 785 


Wee,  sleekit,  cowrin,  tim'rous  beastie, 
Oh,  what  a  panic's  in  thy  breastie ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hasty, 

Wi'  bickering  brattle  ! 
I  wad  be  laith  to  rin  an'  chase  thee, 

Wi'  murd'ring  pattle  ! 


I'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion 
Has  broken  Nature's  social  union, 
An'  justifies  that  ill  opinion 

Which  makes  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor,  earth-born  companion 

An'  fellow-mortal ! 


Ill 

I  doubt  na,  whyles,  but  thou  may  thieve; 

What  then  ?  poor  beastie,  thou  maun  live  ! 

A  daimen-icker  in  a  thrave  15 

'S  a  sma'  request; 
I'll  get  a  blessin  wi'  the  lave, 

And  never  miss't! 


BURNS  I  5  3 


25 


Thy  wee-bit  housie,  too,  in  ruin! 
Its  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin! 
An'  naethiiig,  now,  to  big  a  new  ane, 

O'  foggage  green ! 
An'  bleak  December's  winds  ensuin, 

Baith  snell  an'  keen! 


Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  an'  waste, 
An'  weary  winter  comin  fast, 
An'  cozie  here,  beneath  the  blast. 

Thou  thought  to  dwell, 
Till  crash !  the  cruel  coulter  past 

Out  thro'  thy  cell.  30 


VI 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  an'  stibble, 
Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nibble  ! 
Now  thou's  turn'd  out,  for  a'  thy  trouble, 

But  house  or  hald. 
To  thole  the  winter's  sleety  dribble,  35 

An'  cranreuch  cauld ! 


VII 

But,  Mousie,  thou  art  no  thy  lane. 
In  proving  foresight  may  be  vain  : 
The  best-laid  schemes  o'  mice  an'  men 

Gang  aft  a-gley,  40 

An'  lea'e  us  nought  but  grief  an'  pain, 

For  promis'd  joy  ! 


54  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

VIII 

Still  thou  art  blest,  compared  wi'  mel 

The  present  only  toucheth  thee : 

But  och!  I  backward  cast  my  e'e,  45 

On  prospects  drear! 
An'  forward,  tho'  I  canna  see, 

I  guess  an'  fear! 

THE   COTTER'S    SATURDAY   NIGHT 

Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 
Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obscure; 

Nor  Grandeur  hear,  with  a  disdainful  smile. 

The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor.  —  Gray. 


My  lov'd,  my  honor'd,  much  respected  friend! 

No  mercenary  bard  his  homage  pays  ; 

With  honest  pride,  I  scorn  each  selfish  end. 

My  dearest  meed,  a  friend's  esteem  and  praise  : 

To  you  I  sing,  in  simple  Scottish  lays,  5 

The  lowly  train  in  life's  sequester'd  scene; 

The  native  feelings  strong,  the  guileless  ways ; 

What  Aiken  in  a  cottage  would  have  been  ; 

Ah  !  tho'  his  worth  unknown,  far  happier  there,  I  ween ! 

II 

November  chill  blaws  loud  wi'  angry  sugh ;  lo 

The  short'ning  winter-day  is  near  a  close  ; 

The  miry  beasts  retreating  frae  the  pleugh  ; 

The  black'ning  trains  o'  craws  to  their  repose  : 

The  toil-worn  Cotter  frae  his  labor  goes  — 

This  night  his  weekly  moil  is  at  an  end,  15 

Collects  his  spades,  his  mattocks,  and  his  hoes, 


BURNS  i  5  5 

Hoping  the  morn  in  ease  and  rest  to  spend, 

And  weary,  o'er  the  moor,  his  course  does  hameward  bend. 

Ill 

At  length  his  lonely  cot  appears  in  view, 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree  ;  20 

Th'  expectant  wee-things,  toddlin,  stacher  through. 

To  meet  their  dad,  wi'  flichterin'  noise  and  glee. 

His  wee  bit  ingle,  blinkin  bonnilie. 

His  clean  hearth-stane,  his  thriftie  wifie's  smile. 

The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  knee,  25 

Does  a'  his  weary  kiaugh  and  care  beguile. 

And  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labor  and  his  toil. 

IV 

Belyve,  the  elder  bairns  come  drapping  in. 

At  service  out,  amang  the  farmers  roun' ; 

Some  ca'  the  pleugh,  some  herd,  some  tentie  rin  30 

A  cannie  errand  to  a  neebor  town  : 

Their  eldest  hope,  their  Jenny,  woman-grown. 

In  youthfu'  bloom,  love  sparkling  in  her  e'e. 

Comes  hame;  perhaps,  to  shew  a  braw  new  gown. 

Or  deposite  her  sair-won  penny-fee,  35 

To  help  her  parents  dear,  if  they  in  hardship  be. 


With  joy  unfeign'd  brothers  and  sisters  meet, 

And  each  for  other's  weelfare  kindly  spiers  : 

The  social  hours,  swift-wing'd,  unnotic'd  fleet ; 

Each  tells  the  uncos  that  he  sees  or  hears.  40 

The  parents  partial  eye  their  hopeful  years  ; 

Anticipation  forward  points  the  view  ; 

The  mother,  wi'  her  needle  and  her  sheers, 

Gars  auld  claes  look  amaist  as  weel's  the  new  ; 

The  father  mixes  a'  wi'  admonition  due.  45 


156  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

VI 

Their  master's  an'  their  mistress's  command, 

The  yonkers  a'  are  warned  to  obey  ; 

And  mind  their  labors  \vi'  an  eydent  hand, 

And  ne'er,  tho'  out  o'  sight,  to  jauk  or  play : 

'  And,  O  !  be  sure  to  fear  the  Lord  alway,  50 

And  mind  your  duty,  duly,  morn  and  night ; 

Lest  in  temptation's  path  ye  gang  astray. 

Implore  His  counsel  and  assisting  might : 

They  never  sought  in  vain  that  sought  the  Lord  aright  ! ' 


But  hark  !  a  rap  comes  gently  to  the  door  ;  55 

Jenny,  wha  kens  the  meaning  o'  the  same, 

Tells  how  a  neebor  lad  came  o'er  the  moor. 

To  do  some  errands,  and  convoy  her  hame. 

The  wily  mother  sees  the  conscious  flame 

Sparkle  in  Jenny's  e'e,  and  flush  her  cheek  ;  60 

With  heart-struck  anxious  care,  enquires  his  name. 

While  Jenny  hafflins  is  afraid  to  speak  ; 

Weel-pleased  the  mother  hears,  it's  nae  wild  worthless  rake. 


VIII 

Wi'  kindly  welcome,  Jenny  brings  him  ben  ; 

A  strappin'  youth,  he  takes  the  mother's  eye  ;  65 

Blythe  Jenny  sees  the  visit's  no  ill  taen  ; 

The  father  cracks  of  horses,  pleughs,  and  kye. 

The  youngster's  artless  heart  o'erflows  wi'  joy, 

But,  blate  and  laithfu',  scarce  can  weel  behave  ; 

The  mother,  wi'  a  woman's  wiles,  can  spy  70 

What  makes  the  youth  sae  bashfu'  and  sae  grave ; 

Weel-pleas'd  to  think  her  bairn's  respected  like  the  lave. 


BURNS  157 


IX 


Oh  happy  love  !  where  love  like  this  is  found  : 

O  heart-felt  raptures  !  bliss  beyond  compare  ! 

I've  paced  much  this  weary,  mortal  round,  75 

And  sage  experience  bids  me  this  declare :  — 

'  If  Heaven  a  draught  of  heavenly  pleasure  spare, 

One  cordial  in  this  melancholy  vale, 

'Tis  when  a  youthful,  loving,  modest  pair, 

In  other's  arms  breathe  out  the  tender  tale  80 

Beneath  the  milk-white  thorn  that  scents  the  ev'ning  gale,' 


Is  there,  in  human  form,  that  bears  a  heart 

A  wretch  !  a  villain  !  lost  to  love  and  truth  ! 

That  can,  with  studied,  sly,  ensnaring  art, 

Betray  sweet  Jenny's  unsuspecting  youth?  85 

Curse  on  his  perjur'd  arts  !  dissembling  smooth  ! 

Are  honor,  virtue,  conscience,  all  exil'd  ? 

Is  there  no  pity,  no  relenting  ruth. 

Points  to  the  parents  fondling  o'er  their  child  ? 

Then  paints  the  ruin'd  maid,  and  their  distraction  wild  ?      90 


XI 

But  now  the  supper  crowns  their  simple  board, 

The  healsome  parritch,  chief  o'  Scotia's  food  ; 

The  soupe  their  only  hawkie  does  afford, 

That  'yont  the  hallan  snugly  chows  her  cood  ; 

The  dame  brings  forth,  in  complimental  mood,  95 

To  grace  the  lad,  her  weel-hain'd  kebbuck,  fell, 

And  aft  he's  prest,  and  aft  he  ca's  it  guid  ; 

The  frugal  wifie,  garrulous,  will  tell, 

How  'twas  a  towmond  auld,  sin'  lint  was  i'  the  bell. 


158  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

XII 

The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face,  100 

They,  round  the  ingle,  form  a  circle  wide ; 

The  sire  turns  o'er,  wi'  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  ha'-Bible,  ance  his  father's  pride. 

His  bonnet  rev'rently  is  laid  aside, 

His  lyart  hafEets  wearing  thin  and  bare ;  105 

Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide, 

He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care. 

And  '  Let  us  worship  God  ! '  he  says,  with  solemn  air. 


XIII 

They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise  ; 

They  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim  :  no 

Perhaps  Dundee's  wild-warbling  measures  rise, 

Or  plaintive  Martyrs,  worthy  of  the  name  ; 

Or  noble  Elgin  beets  the  heaven-ward  flame, 

The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays  : 

Compar'd  with  these,  Italian  trills  are  tame ;  115 

The  tickl'd  ears  no  heart-felt  raptures  raise ; 

Nae  unison  hae  they  with  our  Creator's  praise. 


XIV 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  page. 

How  Abram  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high ; 

Or,  Moses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage  120 

With  Amalek's  ungracious  progeny  ; 

Or  how  the  royal  Bard  did  groaning  lie 

Beneath  the  stroke  of  Heaven's  avenging  ire ; 

Or  Job's  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry ; 

Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wald,  seraphic  fire;  125 

Or  other  holy  Seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre. 


BURNS  159 

XV 

Perhaps  the  Christian  volume  is  the  theme  : 
How  guiltless  blood  for  guilty  man  was  shed  ; 
How  He,  who  bore  in  Heaven  the  second  name, 
Had  not  on  earth  whereon  to  lay  His  head  ;  130 

How  His  first  followers  and  servants  sped ; 
The  precepts  sage  they  wrote  to  many  a  land  : 
How  he,  who  lone  in  Patmos  banished, 
Saw  in  the  sun  a  mighty  angel  stand, 

And  heard  great   Bab'lon's   doom   pronounc'd  by  Heaven's 
command.  135 

XVI 

Then  kneeling  down,  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King, 

The  saint,  the  father,  and  the  husband  prays : 

Hope  '  springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing,' 

That  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days, 

There,  ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays,  140 

No  more  to  sigh,  or  shed  the  bitter  tear, 

Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise. 

In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear ; 

While  circling  Time  moves  round  in  an  eternal  sphere. 


XVII 

Compar'd  with  this,  how  poor  Religion's  pride,  145 

In  all  the  pomp  of  method,  and  of  art; 

When  men  display  to  congregations  wide 

Devotion's  ev'ry  grace,  except  the  heart 

The  Power,  incens'd,  the  pageant  will  desert, 

The  pompous  strain,  the  sacerdotal  stole  ;  150 

But  haply,  in  some  cottage  far  apart. 

May  hear,  well  pleased,  the  language  of  the  soul. 

And  in  His  Book  of  Life  the  inmates  poor  enroll. 


l6o  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 

XVIII 

Then  homeward  all  take  off  their  sev'ral  way ; 

The  youngling  cottagers  retire  to  rest :  i^^ 

The  parent-pair  their  secret  homage  pay, 

And  proffer  up  to  Heaven  the  warm  request, 

That  He  who  stills  the  raven's  clam'rous  nest, 

And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flow'ry  pride, 

Would,  in  the  way  His  wisdom  sees  the  best,  i6o 

For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide  ; 

But  chiefly,  in  their  hearts  with  Grace  Divine  preside. 


From  scenes  like  these  old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs. 

That  makes  her  lov'd  at  home,  rever'd  abroad  : 

Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kings,  165 

'  An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God  ' ; 

And  certes,  in  fair  Virtue's  heavenly  road, 

The  cottage  leaves  the  palace  far  behind  ; 

What  is  a  lordling's  pomp  ?  a  cumbrous  load, 

Disguising  oft  the  wretch  of  human  kind,  170 

Studied  in  arts  of  hell,  in  wickedness  refin'd ! 


XX 

O  Scotia  !   my  dear,  my  native  soil ! 

For  whom  my  warmest  wish  to  Heaven  is  sent ! 

Long  may  thy  hardy  sons  of  rustic  toil 

Be  blest  with  health,  and  peace,  and  sweet  content !  175 

And  O  !  may  Heaven  their  simple  lives  prevent 

From  Luxury's  contagion,  weak  and  vile! 

Then,  howe'er  crowns  and  coronets  be  rent, 

A  virtuous  populace  may  rise  the  while  ! 

And  stand  a  wall  of  fire  around  their  much-lov'd  Isle.  180 


BURNS  l6l 


O  Thou  !  who  pour'd  thy  patriotic  tide, 

That  streamed  thro'  Wallace's  undaunted  heart, 

Who  dar'd  to,  nobly,  stem  tyrannic  pride, 

Or  nobly  die,  the  second  glorious  part : 

(The  patriot's  God,  peculiarly  thou  art,  185 

His  friend,  inspirer,  guardian,  and  reward  !  ) 

O  never,  never  Scotia's  realm  desert ; 

But  still  the  patriot,  and  the  patriot-bard. 

In  bright  succession  raise,  her  ornament  and  guard  ! 

TO   A   MOUNTAIN    DAISY 

ON    TURNING    ONE    DOWN    WITH    THE    PLOUGH,    IN    APRIL,     1786 


Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour ; 
For  I  maun  crush  amang  the  stoure 

Thy  slender  stem  : 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 

Thou  bonie  gem. 


Alas  !  it's  no  thy  neebor  sweet, 
The  bonie  lark,  companion  meet. 
Bending  thee  'mang  the  dewy  weet ! 

Wi'  spreckl'd  breast! 
When  upward-springing,  blythe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  east. 


Cauld  blew  the  bitter-biting  north 
Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth  ; 

ENG.    POEMS  II 


1 62  THE    PERIOD  OF  TRANSITION 

Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth  15 

Amid  the  storm, 
Scarce  rear'd  above  the  parent-earth 

Thy  tender  form. 

IV 

The  flaunting  ilow'rs  our  gardens  yield, 

High  shelt'ring  woods  and  wa's  maun  shield  ;  20 

But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bield 

O'  clod  or  stane, 
Adorns  the  histie  stibble-field. 

Unseen,  alane. 


There,  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad,  25 

Thy  snawie  bosom  sun-ward  spread, 
Thou  lifts  thy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise ; 
But  now  the  share  uptears  thy  bed, 

And  low  thou  lies  !  30 


Such  is  the  fate  of  artless  maid. 
Sweet  flow 'ret  of  the  rural  shade  ! 
By  love's  simplicity  betray'd. 

And  guileless  trust ; 
Till  she,  like  thee,  all  soil'd,  is  laid  35 

Low  i'  the  dust. 


Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  Bard, 

On  life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starr'd  ! 

Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  prudent  lore,  40 


BURNS  163 

Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blow  hard, 
And  whelm  him  o'er  1 

VIII 

Such  fate  to  suffering  Worth  is  giv'n, 

Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striv'n, 

By  human  pride  or  cunning  driv'n  45 

To  mis'ry's  brink ; 
Till,  wrench 'd  of  ev'ry  stay  but  Heav'n, 

He,  ruin'd,  sink! 

IX 

Ev'n  thou  who  mourn 'st  the  Daisy's  fate, 

That  fate  is  thine  —  no  distant  date  ;  50 

Stern  Ruin's  ploughshare  drives,  elate, 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crush'd  beneath  the  furrow's  weight, 

Shall  be  thy  doom  ! 

O,   MY   LUVE'S  LIKE   A    RED,  RED    ROSE 

I 

O,  MY  Luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose, 

That's  newly  sprung  in  June. 
O,  my  Luve's  like  the  melodie, 

That's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune. 


As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonie  lass, 

So  deep  in  luve  am  I, 
And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear. 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry. 


1 64  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 


III 


Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 
And  the  rocks  melt  wi'  the  sun  ! 

And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear, 
While  the  sands  o'  life  shall  run. 


IV 


And  fare  thee  weel,  my  only  luve, 
And  fare  thee  weel  a  while  ! 

And  I  will  come  again,  my  luve, 
Tho'  it  were  ten  thousand  mile ! 


AULD  LANG   SYNE 
Chorus 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne, 
We'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  lang  syne  ! 


Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  never  brought  to  min'  ? 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  auld  lang  syne  ? 


And  surely  ye'll  be  your  pint-stowp, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine, 
And  we'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 

For  auld  lang  syne  ! 


IS 


BURNS  165 


III 


We  twa  hae  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  gowans  fine, 
But  we've  wander'd  monie  a  weary  foot  15 

Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 


IV 


We  twa  hae  paidl'd  in  the  burn 
Frae  mornin  sun  till  dine  ; 

But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd 
Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 


And  here's  a  hand,  my  trusty  fiere, 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine, 
And  we'll  take  a  right  guid-willie  waught, 

For  auld  lang  syne  ! 

Chorus 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear,  25 

For  auld  lang  syne. 
We'll  tak  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 

For  auld  lang  syne  I 


JOHN    ANDERSON,  MY   JO 


John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 
When  we  were  first  acquent, 

Your  locks  were  like  the  raven, 
Your  bonie  brow  was  brent ; 

But  now  your  brow  is  beld,  John, 


1 66  THE   PERIOD   OF   TRANSITION 

Your  locks  are  like  the  snaw, 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 
John  Anderson,  my  jo  ! 


John  Anderson  my  jo,  John, 

We  clamb  the  hill  thegither,  lo 

And  mony  a  canty  day,  John, 

We've  had  wi'  ane  anither  ; 
Now  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 

But  hand  in  hand  we'll  go, 
And  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot,  15 

John  Anderson,  my  jo  ! 

WILLIE   BREW'D    A    PECK   O'   MAUT 

Chorus 

We  are  na  fou,  we're  nae  that  fou, 

But  just  a  drappie  in  our  e'e  ! 
The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  daw, 

And  ay  we'll  taste  the  barley  bree. 


0,  Willie  brew'd  a  peck  o'  maut. 
And  Rob  and  Allan  cam  to  see ; 

Three  blyther  hearts  that  lee-lang  night, 
Ye  wad  na  found  in  Christendie. 


Here  are  we  met,  three  merry  boys, 
Three  merry  boys  I  trow  are  we  ; 

And  monie  a  night  we've  merry  been, 
And  monie  mae  we  hope  to  be  ! 


BURNS  167 


III 


It  is  the  moon,  I  ken  her  horn, 

That's  blinkin  in  the  lift  sae  hie  : 
She  shines  sae  bright  to  wyle  us  hame,  15 

But  by  my  sooth  she'll  wait  a  wee  ! 


IV 


Wha  first  shall  rise  to  gang  awa, 

A  cuckold,  coward  loun  is  he  ! 
Wha  first  beside  his  chair  shall  fa', 

He  is  the  King  amang  us  three  ! 

Chorus 

We  are  na  fou,  we're  nae  that  fou, 
But  just  a  drappie  in  our  e'e  ! 

The  cock  may  craw,  the  day  may  daw. 
And  ay  we'll  taste  the  barley  bree. 


SCOTS,    WHA    HAE 

I 

Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots,  wham  Bruce  has  aften  led. 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed 
Or  to  victorie  ! 


Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour  ; 
See  the  front  o'  battle  lour, 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power  — 
Chains  and  slaverie  ! 


1 68  THE   PERIOD   OF  TRANSITION 


Wha  will  be  a  traitor  knave  ? 
Wha  can  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave  ? 
Let  him  turn  and  flee  ! 

IV 

Wha  for  Scotland's  King  and  Law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw, 
Freeman  stand,  or  freeman  fa', 
Let  him  follow  me  ! 


IS 


By  Oppression's  woes  and  pains. 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains, 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 
But  they  shall  be  free  ! 


VI 


Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 
Let  us  do,  or  die  1 


CAROLINA,   LADY   NAIRNE 

1766-1845 

THE  LAND    O'  THE  LEAL 

I'm  wearin'  awa',  John, 
Like  snaw  when  its  thaw,  John, 
I'm  wearin'  awa' 
To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 


LADY   NAIRNE  169 

There's  nae  sorrow  there,  John,  5 

There's  neither  cauld  nor  care,  John, 
The  day's  aye  fair 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal. 

Our  bonny  bairn's  there,  John, 

She  was  baith  guid  and  fair,  John,  10 

And  oh !  we  grudged  her  sair 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
But  sorrow's  sel'  wears  past,  John, 
And  joy  is  comin'  fast,  John, 
The  joy  that's  aye  to  last  15 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal. 

Sae  dear's  that  joy  was  bought,  John, 
Sae  free  the  battle  fought,  John, 
That  sinfu'  man  e'er  brought 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal.  20 

Oh !  dry  your  glist'ning  e'e,  John, 
My  soul  langs  to  be  free,  John, 
And  angels  beckon  me 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 

Noo,  baud  ye  leal  and  true,  John,  25 

Your  day  it's  weel  near  through,  John, 
And  I'll  welcome  you 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
Noo  fare-ye-weel,  my  ain  John, 

This  warld's  cares  are  vain,  John  ;  30 

We'll  meet  and  we'll  be  fain 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal 


I/O  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH 

1770-1850 

LINES 

COMPOSED    A    FEW    MILES    ABOVE    TINTERN    ABBEY,    ON    REVISITING 
THE    BANKS   OF    THE   WYE,    DURING   A  TOUR,    JULY    13,    1 798 

Five  years  have  past ;  five  summers,  with  the  length 

Of  five  long  winters  !  and  again  I  hear 

These  waters,  rolling  from  their  mountain  springs 

With  a  soft  inland  murmur.  —  Once  again 

Do  I  behold  these  steep  and  lofty  clififs,  5 

That  on  a  wild  secluded  scene  impress 

Thoughts  of  more  deep  seclusion  :    and  connect 

The  landscape  with  the  quiet  of  the  sky. 

The  day  is  come  when  I  again  repose 

Here,  under  this  dark  sycamore,  and  view  lo 

These  plots  of  cottage  ground,  these  orchard  tufts. 

Which  at  this  season,  with  their  unripe  fruits. 

Are  clad  in  one  green  hue,  and  lose  themselves 

'Mid  groves  and  copses.     Once  again  I  see 

These  hedgerows,  hardly  hedgerows,  little  lines  15 

Of  sportive  wood  run  wild  :  these  pastoral  farms, 

Green  to  the  very  door ;    and  wreaths  of  smoke 

Sent  up,  in  silence,  from  among  the  trees  ! 

With  some  uncertain  notice,  as  might  seem 

Of  vagrant  dwellers  in  the  houseless  woods,  20 

Or  of  some  Hermit's  cave,  where  by  his  fire 

The  Hermit  sits  alone. 

Those  beauteous  forms, 
Through  a  long  absence,  have  not  been  to  m^ 


WORDSWORTH  171 

As  is  a  landscape  to  a  blind  man's  eye : 

But  oft,  in  lonely  rooms,  and  'mid  the  din  25 

Of  towns  and  cities,  I  have  owed  to  them, 

In  hours  of  weariness,  sensations  sweet. 

Felt  in  the  blood,  and  felt  along  the  heart ; 

And  passing  even  into  my  purer  mind. 

With  tranquil  restoration  :  —  feelings  too  30 

Of  unremembered  pleasure  :  such,  perhaps, 

As  have  no  slight  or  trivial  influence 

On  that  best  portion  of  a  good  man's  life, 

His  little,  nameless,  unremembered  acts 

Of  kindness  and  of  love.     Nor  less,  I  trust,  35 

To  them  I  may  have  owed  another  gift. 

Of  aspect  more  sublime  ;  that  blessed  mood, 

In  which  the  burthen  of  the  mystery. 

In  which  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 

Of  all  this  unintelligible  world,  40 

Is  lightened  :  —  that  serene  and  blessed  mood. 

In  which  the  affections  gently  lead  us  on,  — 

Until,  the  breath  of  this  corporeal  frame 

And  even  the  motion  of  our  human  blood 

Almost  suspended,  we  are  laid  asleep  45 

In  body,  and  become  a  living  soul : 

While  with  an  eye  made  quiet  by  the  power 

Of  harmony,  and  the  deep  power  of  joy, 

We  see  into  the  life  of  things. 

If  this 
Be  but  a  vain  belief,  yet,  oh  !  how  oft  —  50 

In  darkness  and  amid  the  many  shapes 
Of  joyless  daylight ;  when  the  fretful  stir 
Unprofitable,  and  the  fever  of  the  world. 
Have  hung  upon  the  beatings  of  my  heart  — 
How  oft,  in  spirit,  have  I  turned  to  thee,  55 

O  sylvan  Wye  !  thou  wanderer  thro'  the  woods. 
How  often  has  my  spirit  turned  to  thee  ! 


172  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

And  now,  with  gleams  of   half-extinguished  thought, 

With  many  recognitions  dim  and  faint, 

And  somewhat  of  a  sad  perplexity,  60 

The  picture  of  the  mind  revives  again  : 

While  here  I  stand,  not  only  with  the  sense 

Of  present  pleasure,  but  with  pleasing  thoughts 

That  in  this  moment  there  is  life  and  food 

For  future  years.     And  so  I  dare  to  hope,  65 

Though  changed,  no  doubt,  from  what  I  was  when  first 

I  came  among  these  hills  ;  when  like  a  roe 

I  bounded  o'er  the  mountains,  by  the  sides 

Of  the  deep  rivers,  and  the  lonely  streams, 

Wherever  nature  led  :  more  like  a  man  70 

Flying  from  something  that  he  dreads,  than  one 

Who  sought  the  thing  he  loved.     For  nature  then 

(The  coarser  pleasures  of  my  boyish  days. 

And  their  glad  animal  movements  all  gone  by) 

To  me  was  all  in  all.  —  I  cannot  paint  75 

What  then  I  was.     The  sounding  cataract 

Haunted  me  like  a  passion :  the  tall  rock, 

The  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood, 

Their  colors  and  their  forms,  were  then  to  me 

An  appetite  ;  a  feeling  and  a  love,  80 

That  had  no  need  of  a  remoter  charm. 

By  thought  supplied,  nor  any  interest 

Unborrowed  from  the  eye.  —  That  time  is  past, 

And  all  its  aching  joys  are  now  no  more, 

And  all  its  dizzy  raptures.     Not  for  this  85 

Faint  I,  nor  mourn  nor  murmur;  other  gifts 

Have  followed ;  for  such  loss,  I  would  believe. 

Abundant  recompense.     For  I  have  learned 

To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 

Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes  90 

The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity. 

Nor  harsh  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 


WORDSWORTH  1/3 

To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  felt 

A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 

Of  elevated  thoughts  ;  a  sense  sublime  95 

Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 

Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 

And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 

And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  : 

A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels  loo 

All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought. 

And  rolls  through  all  things.     Therefore  am  I  still 

A  lover  of  the  meadows  and  the  woods. 

And  mountains  ;  and  of  all  that  we  behold 

From  this  green  earth  ;  of  all  the  mighty  world  105 

Of  eye,  and  ear,  —  both  what  they  half  create. 

And  what  perceive  ;  well  pleased  to  recognise 

In  nature  and  the  language  of  the  sense, 

The  anchor  of  my  purest  thoughts,  the  nurse. 

The  guide,  the  guardian  of  my  heart,  and  soul  no 

Of  all  my  moral  being. 

Nor  perchance. 
If  I  were  not  thus  taught,  should  I  the  more 
Suffer  my  genial  spirits  to  decay : 
For  thou  art  with  me  here  upon  the  banks 
Of  this  fair  river  ;  thou  my  dearest  Friend,  115 

My  dear,  dear  Friend  ;  and  in  thy  voice  I  catch 
The  language  of  my  former  heart,  and  read 
My  former  pleasures  in  the  shooting  lights 
Of  thy  wild  eyes.     Oh  !  yet  a  little  while 
May  I  behold  in  thee  what  I  was  once,  120 

My  dear,  dear  Sister  !  and  this  prayer  I  make. 
Knowing  that  Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her  ;  'tis  her  privilege 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
Ftom  joy  to  joy:  for  she  can  so  inform  125 

The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 


1/4  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 

With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues. 

Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 

Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all  130 

The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life. 

Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 

Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which  we  behold 

Is  full  of  blessings.     Therefore  let  the  moon 

Shine  on  thee  in  thy  solitary  walk  ;  135 

And  let  the  misty  mountain-winds  be  free 

To  blow  against  thee  :  and,  in  after  years. 

When  these  wild  ecstasies  shall  be  matured 

Into  a  sober  pleasure ;  when  thy  mind 

Shall  be  a  mansion  for  all  lovely  forms,  140 

Thy  memory  be  as  a  dwelling-place 

For  all  sweet  sounds  and  harmonies  ;  oh!  then, 

If  solitude,  or  fear,  or  pain,  or  grief, 

Should  be  thy  portion,  with  what  healing  thoughts 

Of  tender  joy  wilt  thou  remember  me,  145 

And  these  my  exhortations  !     Nor,  perchance  — 

If  I  should  be  where  I  no  more  can  hear 

Thy  voice,  nor  catch  from  thy  wild  eyes  these  gleams 

Of  past  existence  —  wilt  thou  then  forget 

That  on  the  banks  of  this  delightful  stream  150 

We  stood  together ;   and  that  I,  so  long 

A  worshiper  of  Nature,  hither  came 

Unwearied  in  that  service  :  rather  say 

With  warmer  love  —  oh  !  with  far  deeper  zeal 

Of  holier  love.     Nor  wilt  thou  then  forget  155 

That  after  many  wanderings,  many  years 

Of  absence,  these  steep  woods  and  lofty  clififs. 

And  this  green  pastoral  landscape,  were  to  me 

More  dear,  both  for  themselves  and  for  thy  sake  ! 


WORDSWORTH  175 

SHE   DWELT   AMONG   THE   UNTRODDEN    WAYS 

She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways 
•    Beside  the  springs  of  Dove, 
A  Maid  whom  there  were  none  to  praise 
And  very  few  to  love  : 

A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone  5 

Half  hidden  from  the  eye  ! 
—  Fair  as  a  star,  when  only  one 

Is  shining  in  the  sky. 

She  lived  unknown,  and  few  could  know 

When  Lucy  ceased  to  be  ;  lo 

But  she  is  in  her  grave,  and,  oh, 
The  difference  to  me  ! 

THE   DAFFODILS;     OR,    I    WANDERED   LONELY    AS 
A    CLOUD 

I  WANDERED  loneJy  as  a  cloud 

That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills, 

When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  crowd, 

A  host,  of  golden  daffodils  ; 

Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees,  5 

Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 

And  twinkle  on  the  milky  way. 

They  stretched  in  never-ending  line 

Along  the  margin  of  a  bay :  lo 

Ten  thousand  saw  I  at  a  glance, 

Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

The  waves  beside  them  danced  ;  but  they 
Out-did  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee 
A  poet  could  not  but  be  gay,  15 

In  such  a  jocund  company : 


1^6  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

I  gazed  —  and  gazed  —  but  little  thought 
What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought : 

For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie 
In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood, 
They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude  ; 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 
And  dances  with  the  daffodils. 


ODE  TO  DUTY 

Stern  Daughter  of  the  Voice  of  God  I 

O  Duty !  if  that  name  thou  love 

Who  art  a  light  to  guide,  a  rod 

To  check  the  erring,  and  reprove ; 

Thou,  who  art  victory  and  law  5 

When  empty  terrors  overawe  ; 

From  vain  temptations  dost  set  free ; 

And  calm'st  the  weary  strife  of  frail  humanity ! 

There  are  who  ask  not  if  thine  eye 

Be  on  them ;  who,  in  love  and  truth,  lo 

Where  no  misgiving  is,  rely 
Upon  the  genial  sense  of  youth : 
Glad  Hearts  !  without  reproach  or  blot ; 
Who  do  thy  work,  and  know  it  not : 
Oh !  if  through  confidence  misplaced  15 

They  fail,  thy  saving  arms,  dread  Power  !   around 
them  cast. 

Serene  Avill  be  our  days  and  bright, 

And  happy  will  our  nature  be. 

When  love  is  an  unerring  light, 

And  joy  its  own  security.  20 

And  they  a  blissful  course  may  hold 


WORDSWORTH  1/7 

Even  now,  who,  not  unwisely  bold, 

Live  in  the  spirit  of  this  creed; 

Yet  seek  thy  firm  support,  according  to  their  need. 

I,  loving  freedom,  and  untried  :  25 

No  sport  of  every  random  gust, 

Yet  being  to  myself  a  guide. 

Too  blindly  have  reposed  my  trust : 

And  oft,  when  in  my  heart  was  heard 

Thy  timely  mandate,  I  deferred  30 

The  task,  in  smoother  walks  to  stray; 

But  thee  I  now  would  serve  more  strictly,  if  I  may. 

Through  no  disturbance  of  my  soul. 

Or  strong  compunction  in  me  wrought, 

I  supplicate  for  thy  control ;  "    35 

But  in  the  quietness  of  thought : 

Me  this  unchartered  freedom  tires ; 

I  feel  the  weight  of  chance  desires  : 

My  hopes  no  more  must  change  their  name, 

I  long  for  a  repose  that  ever  is  the  same.  40 

Stern  Lawgiver !  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace  ; 
Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 
As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face : 

Flowers  lavigh  before  thee  on  their  beds  45 

And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong ; 

And   the  most  ancient   heavens,  through  Thee,  are  fresh  and 
strong. 

To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power  ! 

I  call  thee  :   I  myself  commend  50 

Unto  thy  guidance  from  this  hour; 

Oh !  let  my  weakness  have  an  end ! 

ENG.    rOEMS  —  12 


178  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Give  unto  me,  made  lowly  wise, 

The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  ; 

The  confidence  of  reason  give  ;  55 

And,  in  the  light  of  truth,  thy  Bondman  let  me  live ! 

ODE 

INTIMATIONS    OF    IMMORTALITY    FROM    RECOLLECTIONS    OF    EARLY 

CHILDHOOD 


There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove,  and  stream, 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight. 
To  me  did  seem 
Apparelled  in  celestial  light, 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream. 
It  is  not  now  as  it  has  been  of  yore;  — 
Turn  wheresoe'er  I  may. 
By  night  or  day. 
The  thinsfs  which  I  have  seen  I  now  can  see  no  more. 


The  Rainbow  comes  and  goes,  10 

And  lovely  is  the  Rose, 
The  moon  doth  with  delight 
Look  round  her  when  the  heavens  are  bare, 
Waters  on  a  starry  night 

Are  beautiful  and  fair ;  15 

The  sunshine  is  a  glorious  birth; 
But  yet  I  know,  where'er  I  go. 
That  there  hath  past  away  a  glory  from  the  earth. 


Now,  while  the  birds  thus  sing  a  joyous  song, 
And  while  the  young  lambs  bound 
As  to  the  tabor's  sound, 


WORDSWORTH  1/9 

To  me  alone  there  came  a  thought  of  grief: 
A  timely  utterance  gave  that  thought  relief, 

And  I  again  am  strong  : 
The  cataracts  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep;  25 

No  more  shall  grief  of  mind  the  season  wrong; 
I  hear  the  echoes  through  the  mountains  throng, 
The  winds  come  to  me  from  the  fields  of  sleep, 
And  all  the  earth  is  gay; 

Land  and  sea  3° 

Give  themselves  up  to  jollity, 
And  with  the  heart  of  May 
Doth  every  beast  keep  holiday ;  — 
Thou  child  of  joy, 
Shout  round  me,  let  me  hear  thy  shouts,  thou  happy 

Shepherd-boy !  35 

IV 

Ye  blessed  Creatures,  I  have  heard  the  call 

Ye  to  each  other  make ;  I  see 
The  heavens  laugh  with  you  in  your  jubilee; 
My  heart  is  at  your  festival. 

My  head  hath  its  coronal,  40 

The  fulness  of  your  bliss,  I  feel,  I  feel  it  all. 
Oh  evil  day  !  if  I  were  sullen 
While  the  earth  herself  is  adorning. 

This  sweet  May-morning, 
And  the  Children  are  culling  45 

On  every  side. 
In  a  thousand  valleys  far  and  wide. 
Fresh  flowers  ;  while  the  sun  shines  warm. 
And  the  Babe  leaps  up  on  his  Mother's  arm  :  — 

I  hear,  I  hear,  with  joy  I  hear  !  50 

—  But  there's  a  Tree,  of  many,  one, 
A  single  Field  which  I  have  looked  upon. 
Both  of  them  speak  of  something  that  is  gone  : 


l8o  THE    ROMAN  lie   PERIOD 

The  Pansy  at  my  feet 

Doth  the  same  tale  repeat :  55 

Whither  is  fled  the  visionary  gleam  ? 
Where  is  it  now,  the  glory  and  the  dream  ? 


Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting  : 
The  Soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  Star, 

Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting,  60 

And  conieth  from  afar  : 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness. 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness. 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 

From  God,  who  is  our  home  :  65 

Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy  ! 
Shades  of  the  prison-house  begin  to  close 

Upon  the  growing  Boy, 
But  he  beholds  the  light,  and  whence  it  flows, 

He  sees  it  in  his  joy ;  70 

The  Youth,  who  daily  farther  from  the  east 
Must  travel,  still  is  Nature's  Priest, 
And  by  the  vision  splendid 
Is  on  his  way  attended  ; 
At  length  the  Man  perceives  it  die  away,  75 

And  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day. 

VI 

Earth  fills  her  lap  with  pleasures  of  her  own  ; 
Yearnings  she  hath  in  her  own  natural  kind. 
And,  even  with  something  of  a  Mother's  mind. 

And  no  unworthy  aim,  80 

The  homely  Nurse  doth  all  she  can 
To  make  her  Foster-child,  her  Inmate  Man, 

Forget  the  glories  he  hath  known. 
And  that  imperial  palace  whence  he  came. 


WORDSWORTH 


VII 


i8i 


Behold  the  Child  among  his  new-born  blisses,  85 

A  six  years'  Darling  of  a  pigmy  size  ! 
See,  where  'mid  work  of  his  own  hand  he  lies, 
Fretted  by  sallies  of  his  mother's  kisses, 
With  hght  upon  him  from  his  father's  eyes  ! 
See,  at  his  feet,  some  little  plan  or  chart,  9° 

Some  fragment  from  his  dream  of  human  life, 
Shaped  by  himself  with  newly-learned  art ; 
A  wedding  or  a  festival, 
A  mourning  or  a  funeral ; 

And  this  hath  now  his  heart,  95 

And  unto  this  he  frames  his  song  : 
Then  will  he  fit  his  tongue 
To  dialogues  of  business,  love,  or  strife ; 
But  it  will  not  be  long 

Ere  this  be  thrown  aside,  1°° 

And  with  new  joy  and  pride 
The  little  Actor  cons  another  part; 
Filling  from  time  to  time  his  '  humorous  stage  ' 
With  all  the  Persons,  down  to  palsied  Age, 

That  Life  brings  with  her  in  her  equipage  ;  105 

As  if  his  whole  vocation 
Were  endless  imitation. 


Thou,  whose  exterior  semblance  doth  belie 

Thy  Soul's  immensity ; 
Thou  best  Philosopher,  who  yet  dost  keep  no 

Thy  heritage,  thou  Eye  among  the  blind, 
That,  deaf  and  silent,  read'st  the  eternal  deep, 
Haunted  for  ever  by  the  eternal  mind,— 

Mighty  Prophet !     Seer  blest ! 

On  whom  those  truths  do  rest,  "5 


1 82  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Which  we  are  toiling  all  our  lives  to  find, 

In  darkness  lost,  the  darkness  of  the  grave ; 

Thou,  over  whom  thy  Immortality 

Broods  like  the  Day,  a  Master  o'er  a  Slave, 

A  Presence  which  is  not  to  be  put  by ;  120 

Thou  little  Child,  yet  glorious  in  the  might 

Of  heaven-born  freedom  on  thy  being's  height. 

Why  with  such  earnest  pains  dost  thou  provoke 

The  years  to  bring  the  inevitable  yoke. 

Thus  blindly  with  thy  blessedness  at  strife  ?  125 

Full  soon  thy  Soul  shall  have  her  earthly  freight, 

And  custom  lie  upon  thee  with  a  weight, 

Heavy  as  frost,  and  deep  almost  as  life  1 

IX 

O  joy  !  that  in  our  embers 

Is  something  that  doth  live,  130 

That  nature  yet  remembers 

What  was  so  fugitive  ! 
The  thought  of  our  past  years  in  me  doth  breed 
Perpetual  benediction  :  not  indeed 

For  that  which  is  most  worthy  to  be  blest ;  135 

Delight  and  liberty,  the  simple  creed 
Of  Childhood,  whether  busy  or  at  rest. 
With  new-fledged  hope  still  fluttering  in  his  breast : — 
Not  for  these  I  raise 
The  song  of  thanks  and  praise  ;  140 

But  for  those  obstinate  questionings 

Of  sense  and  outward  things. 

Fallings  from  us,  vanishings ; 

Black  misgivings  of  a  Creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized,  145 

High  instincts,  before  which  our  mortal  Nature 
Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised  : 

But  for  those  first  affections, 


WORDSWORTH  I 83 

Those  shadowy  recollections, 

Which,  be  they  what  they  may,  150 

Are  yet  the  fountain  light  of  all  our  day, 
Are  yet  a  master  light  of  all  our  seeing ; 

Uphold  us,  cherish,  and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence  :  truths  that  wake,  155 

To  perish  never ; 
Which  neither  listlessness,  nor  mad  endeavor. 

Nor  Man  nor  Boy, 
Nor  all  that  is  at  enmity  with  joy. 

Can  utterly  abolish  or  destroy  !  160 

Hence  in  a  season  of  calm  weather 
Though  inland  far  we  be, 
Our  Souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 
Which  brought  us  hither, 
Can  in  a  moment  travel  thither,  165 

And  see  the  Children  sport  upon  the  shore. 
And  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore. 


Then  sing,  ye  Birds,  sing,  sing  a  joyous  song  ! 

And  let  the  young  Lambs  bound 

As  to  the  tabor's  sound  !  170 

We,  in  thought,  will  join  your  throng. 

Ye  that  pipe  and  ye  that  play. 

Ye  that  through  your  hearts  to-day 

Feel  the  gladness  of  the  May  ! 
What  though  the  radiance  which  was  once  so  bright  175 

Be  now  for  ever  taken  from  my  sight, 

Though  nothing  can  bring  back  the  hour 
Of  splendor  in  the  grass,  of  glory  in  the  flower ; 

We  will  grieve  not,  rather  find 

Strength  in  what  remains  behind  ;  180 


1 84  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

In  the  primal  sympathy 
Which  having  been  must  ever  be  ; 
In  the  soothing  thoughts  that  spring 
Out  of  human  suffering  ; 

In  the  faith  that  looks  through  death  185 

In  years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind. 

XI 

And  O,  ye  Fountains,  Meadows,  Hills,  and  Groves, 

Forebode  not  any  severing  of  our  loves  ! 

Yet  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  feel  your  might ; 

I  only  have  relinquished  one  delight  190 

To  live  beneath  your  more  habitual  sway. 

I  love  the  Brooks  which  down  their  channels  fret. 

Even  more  than  when  I  tripped  lightly  as  they; 

The  innocent  brightness  of  a  new-born  Day 

Is  lovely  yet ;  195 

The  Clouds  that  gather  round  the  setting  sun 
Do  take  a  sober  coloring  from  an  eye 
That  hath  kept  watch  o'er  man's  mortality ; 
Another  race  hath  been,  and  other  palms  are  won. 
Thanks  to  the  human  heart  by  which  we  live,  200 

Thanks  to  its  tenderness,  its  joys,  and  fears. 
To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears. 

LONDON,  1802 

Milton  !  thou  shouldst  be  living  at  this  hour  : 

England  hath  need  of  thee  :  she  is  a  fen 

Of  stagnant  waters :  altar,  sword,  and  pen, 

Fireside,  the  heroic  wealth  of  hall  and  bower. 

Have  forfeited  their  ancient  English  dower  5 

Of  inward  happiness.     We  are  selfish  men  ; 

Oh  !  raise  us  up,  return  to  us  again  ; 


WORDSWORTH  1 85 

And  give  us  manners,  virtue,  freedom,  power. 

Thy  soul  was  like  a  Star,  and  dwelt  apart : 

Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sea  :  10 

Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free, 

So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way, 

In  cheerful  godliness;  and  yet  thy  heart 

The  lowliest  duties  on  herself  did  lay. 

THE   WORLD    IS   TOO    MUCH   WITH    US 

The  world  is  too  much  with  us :  late  and  soon, 

Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers  : 

Little  we  see  in  Nature  that  is  ours ; 

We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon  ! 

This  Sea  that  bares  her  bosom  to  the  moon  ;  5 

The  winds  that  will  be  howling  at  all  hours. 

And  are  up-gathered  now  like  sleeping  flowers  ; 

For  this,  for  everything,  we  are  out  of  tune  ; 

It  moves  us  not.  —  Great  God  !  I'd  rather  be 

A  Pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn  ;  ic 

So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea. 

Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn  ; 

Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea  ; 

Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn. 


1 86  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 

1771-1832 

THE  BATTLE  OF   BANNOCKBURN 
[From  The  Lord  of  the  Isles,  Canto  VI] 


The  King  had  deem'd  the  maiden  bright 
Should  reach  him  long  before  the  fight, 
But  storms  and  fate  her  course  delay : 
It  was  on  eve  of  battle-day, 

When  o'er  the  Gillie's-hill  she  rode.  5 

The  landscape  like  a  furnace  glow'd. 
And  far  as  e'er  the  eye  was  borne, 
The  lances  waved  like  autumn  corn. 
In  battles  four  beneath  their  eye, 

The  forces  of  King  Robert  lie.  lo 

And  one  below  the  hill  was  laid. 
Reserved  for  rescue  and  for  aid  ; 
And  three,  advanced,  form'd  vaward  line, 
'Twixt  Bannock's  brook  and  Ninian's  shrine. 
.  Detach'd  was  each,  yet  each  so  nigh  15 

As  well  might  mutual  aid  supply. 
Beyond,  the  Southern  host  appears, 
A  boundless  wilderness  of  spears. 
Whose  verge  or  rear  the  anxious  eye 
Strove  far,  but  strove  in  vain,  to  spy.  20 

Thick  flashing  in  the  evening  beam, 
Glaives,  lances,  bills,  and  banners  gleam ; 
And  where  the  heaven  join'd  with  the  hill, 
Was  distant  armor  flashing  still. 

So  wide,  so  far,  the  boundless  host  25 

Seem'd  in  the  blue  horizon  lost. 


SCOTT  187 

XI 

Down  from  the  hill  the  maiden  pass'd, 

At  the  wild  show  of  war  aghast ; 

And  traversed  first  the  rearward  host, 

Reserved  for  aid  where  needed  most.  30 

The  men  of  Carrick  and  of  Ayr, 

Lennox  and  Lanark,  too,  were  there, 

And  all  the  western  land  ; 
With  these  the  valiant  of  the  Isles 
Beneath  their  chieftains  rank'd  their  files,  35 

In  many  a  plaided  band. 
There,  in  the  center,  proudly  raised. 
The  Bruce's  royal  standard  blazed. 
And  there  Lord  Ronald's  banner  bore 
A  galley  driven  by  sail  and  oar.  40 

A  wild,  yet  pleasing  contrast,  made 
Warriors  in  mail  and  plate  array'd. 

With  the  plumed  bonnet  and  the  plaid 
By  these  Hebrideans  worn  ; 

But  O  !  unseen  for  three  long  years,  45 

Dear  was  the  garb  of  mountaineers 
To  the  fair  Maid  of  Lorn  ! 

For  one  she  look'd  —  but  he  was  far 

Busied  amid  the  ranks  of  war  — 

Yet  with  alifection's  troubled  eye  50 

She  mark'd  his  banner  boldly  fly, 

Gave  on  the  countless  foe  a  glance. 

And  thought  on  battle's  desperate  chance. 

XIV 

O  gay,  yet  fearful  to  behold, 

Flashing  with  steel  and  rough  with  gold,  55 

And  bristled  o'er  with  bills  and  spears, 
With  plumes  and  pennons  waving  fair, 


J  88  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Was  that  bright  battle-front !  for  there 

Rode  England's  King  and  peers  : 
And  who,  that  saw  that  monarch  ride,  60 

His  kingdom  battled  by  his  side, 
Could  then  his  direful  doom  foretell !  — 
Fair  was  his  seat  in  knightly  selle, 
And  in  his  sprightly  eye  was  set 

Some  spark  of  the  Plantagenet.  65 

Though  light  and  wandering  was  his  glance, 
It  flash'd  at  sight  of  shield  and  lance. 
'  Know'st  thou,'  he  said,  '  De  Argentine, 
Yon  knight  who  marshals  thus  their  line  ? '  — 
'  The  tokens  on  his  helmet  tell  70 

The  Bruce,  my  Liege  :  I  know  him  well.'  — 
'  And  shall  the  audacious  traitor  brave 
The  presence  where  our  banners  wave  ? '  — 
'  So  please  my  Liege,'  said  Argentine, 
'  Were  he  but  horsed  on  steed  like  mine,  75 

To  give  him  fair  and  knightly  chance, 
I  would  adventure  forth  my  lance.'  — 
'  In  battle-day,'  the  King  replied, 
'  Nice  tourney  rules  are  set  aside. 

—  Still  must  the  rebel  dare  our  wrath  ?  80 

Set  on  him  —  sweep  him  from  our  path  ! '  — 
And,  at  King  Edward's  signal,  soon 
Dash'd  from  the  ranks  Sir  Henry  Boune. 


XV 

Of  Hereford's  high  blood  he  came, 

A  race  renown 'd  for  knightly  fame.  85 

He  burn'd  before  his  Monarch's  eye 

To  do  some  deed  of  chivalry. 

He  spurr'd  his  steed,  he  couch'd  his  lance. 

And  darted  on  the  Bruce  at  once. 


SCOTT  1 89 

—  As  motionless  as  rocks,  that  bide  go 
The  wrath  of  the  advancing  tide, 

The  Bruce  stood  fast.  —  Each  breast  beat  high. 

And  dazzled  was  each  gazing  eye  — 

The  heart  had  hardly  time  to  think. 

The  eyelid  scarce  had  time  to  wink,  95 

While  on  the  King,  like  flash  of  flame, 

Spurr'd  to  full  speed  the  war-horse  came  1 

The  partridge  may  the  falcon  mock, 

If  that  slight  palfrey  stand  the  shock  — 

But,  swerving  from  the  knight's  career,  100 

Just  as  they  met,  Bruce  shunn'd  the  spear, 

Onward  the  baffled  warrior  bore 

His  course  —  but  soon  his  course  was  o'er  !  — 

High  in  his  stirrups  stood  the  King, 

And  gave  his  battle-axe  the  swing.  105 

Right  on  De  Boune,  the  whiles  he  pass'd. 

Fell  that  stern  dint  —  the  first  —  the  last !  — 

Such  strength  upon  the  blow  was  put. 

The  helmet  crash'd  like  hazel-nut ; 

The  axe-shaft,  with  its  brazen  clasp,  no 

Was  shiver'd  to  the  gauntlet  grasp. 

Springs  from  the  blow  the  startled  horse, 

Drops  to  the  plain  the  lifeless  corse  ; 

—  First  of  that  fatal  field,  how  soon, 

How  sudden,  fell  the  fierce  De  Bound  115 


XXI 

Now  onward,  and  in  open  view. 
The  countless  ranks  of  England  drew, 
Dark  rolling  like  the  ocean-tide. 
When  the  rough  west  hath  chafed  his  pride, 
And  his  deep  roar  sends  challenge  wide 
To  all  that  bars  his  way  ! 


1 90 


THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

In  front  the  gallant  archers  trode, 
The  men-at-arms  behind  them  rode, 
And  midmost  of  the  phalanx  broad 

The  Monarch  held  his  sway.  125 

Beside  him  many  a  war-horse  fumes, 
Around  him  waves  a  sea  of  plumes, 
Where  many  a  knight  in  battle  known, 
And  some  whose  spurs  had  first  braced  on, 
And  deem'd  that  light  should  see  them  won,  130 

King  Edward's  bests  obey. 
De  Argentine  attends  his  side, 
With  stout  De  Valence,  Pembroke's  pride. 
Selected  champions  from  the  train, 
To  wait  upon  his  bridle-rein.  135 

Upon  the  Scottish  foe  he  gazed  — 

—  At  once,  before  his  sight  amazed. 
Sunk  banner,  spear,  and  shield  ; 

Each  weapon-point  is  downward  sent. 

Each  warrior  to  the  ground  is  bent.  140 

*  The  rebels,  Argentine,  repent ! 
For  pardon  they  have  kneel'd.'  — 

'  Aye  !  —  but  they  bend  to  other  powers, 

And  other  pardon  sue  than  ours  ! 

See  where  yon  barefoot  Abbot  stands,  145 

And  blesses  them  with  lifted  hands  ! 

Upon  the  spot  where  they  have  kneel'd, 

These  men  will  die  or  win  the  field.' 

— '  Then  prove  we  if  they  die  or  win  ! 

Bid  Gloster's  Earl  the  fight  begin.'  150 

XXIII 

Then  spurs  were  dash'd  in  chargers'  flanks, 
They  rush'd  among  the  archer  ranks, 
No  spears  were  there  the  shock  to  let. 


SCOIT  191 

No  Stakes  to  turn  the  charge  was  set, 

And  how  shall  yeoman's  armor  slight,  155 

Stand  the  long  lance  and  mace  of  might? 

Or  what  may  their  short  swords  avail, 

'Gainst  barbed  horse  and  shirt  of  mail  ? 

Amid  their  ranks  the  chargers  sprung, 

High  o'er  their  heads  the  weapons  swung,  160 

And  shriek  and  groan  and  vengeful  shout 

Give  note  of  triumph  and  of  rout ! 

Awhile,  with  stubborn  hardihood. 

Their  English  hearts  the  strife  made  good. 

Borne  down  at  length  on  every  side,  165 

Compell'd  to  flight,  they  scatter  wide. — 

Let  stags  of  Sherwood  leap  for  glee. 

And  bound  the  deer  of  Dallom-Lee  ! 

The  broken  bows  of  Bannock's  shore 

Shall  in  the  greenwood  ring  no  more !  170 

Round  Wakefield's  merry  May-pole  now, 

The  maids  may  twine  the  summer  bough. 

May  northward  look  with  longing  glance, 

For  those  that  wont  to  lead  the  dance, 

For  the  blithe  archers  look  in  vain  !  175 

Broken,  dispersed,  in  flight  o'erta'en, 

Pierced  through,  trode  down,  by  thousands  slain. 

They  cumber  Bannock's  bloody  plain. 

XXVI 

Unflinching  foot  'gainst  foot  was  set, 

Unceasing  blow  by  blow  was  met ;  180 

The  groans  of  those  who  fell 
Were  drown 'd  amid  the  shriller  clang 
That  from  the  blades  and  harness  rang, 

And  in  the  battle-yell. 
Yet  fast  they  fell,  unheard,  forgot,  185 


192 


THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Both  Southern  fierce  and  hardy  Scot ; 

And  O !  amid  that  waste  of  Hfe, 

What  various  motives  fired  the  strife ! 

The  aspiring  Noble  bled  for  fame, 

The  Patriot  for  his  country's  claim  ;  190 

This  Knight  his  youthful  strength  to  prove, 

And  that  to  win  his  lady's  love  ; 

Some  fought  from  ruffian  thirst  of  blood. 

From  habit  some,  or  hardihood. 

But  ruffian  stern,  and  soldier  good,  195 

The  noble  and  the  slave. 
From  various  cause  the  same  wild  road, 
On  the  same  bloody  morning,  trode. 

To  that  dark  inn,  the  Grave  ! 

XXVIII 

Bruce,  with  the  pilot's  wary  eye,  200 

The  slackening  of  the  storm  could  spy. 
'  One  effort  more,  and  Scotland's  free! 
Lord  of  the  Isles,  my  trust  in  thee 

Is  firm  as  Ailsa  Rock  ; 
Rush  on  with  Highland  sword  and  targe,  205 

I  with  my  Carrick  spearmen  charge  ; 

Now,  forward  to  the  shock  ! ' 
At  once  the  spears  were  forward  thrown, 
Against  the  sun  the  broadswords  shone  ; 
The  pibroch  lent  its  maddening  tone,  210 

And  loud  King  Robert's  voice  was  known  — 
'  Carrick,  press  on  —  they  fail,  they  fail ! 
Press  on,  brave  sons  of  Innisgail, 

The  foe  is  fainting  fast ! 
Each  strike  for  parent,  child,  and  wife,  215 

For  Scotland,  liberty,  and  life, — 

The  battle  cannot  last  !  ' 


SCOTT  193 


Already  scatter'd  o'er  the  plain, 
Reproof,  command,  and  counsel  vain, 
The  rearward  squadrons  fled  amain,  220 

•    Or  made  but  doubtful  stay  ;  — 
But  when  they  mark'd  the  seeming  show 
Of  fresh  and  fierce  and  marshall'd  foe. 
The  boldest  broke  array. 

0  give  their  hapless  prince  his  due  !  225 
In  vain  the  royal  Edward  threw 

His  person  'mid  the  spears. 
Cried,  '  Fight !  '  to  terror  and  despair. 
Menaced,  and  wept,  and  tore  his  hair. 

And  cursed  their  caitiff  fears  ;  230 

Till  Pembroke  turn'd  his  bridle  rein. 
And  forced  him  from  the  fatal  plain. 
With  them  rode  Argentine,  until 
They  gain'd  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

But  quitted  there  the  train  :  —  235 

'  In  yonder  field  a  gage  I  left,  — 

1  must  not  live  of  fame  bereft ; 

I  needs  must  turn  again'. 
Speed  hence,  my  Liege,  for  on  your  trace 
The  fiery  Douglas  takes  the  chase,  240 

I  know  his  banner  well. 
God  send  my  Sovereign  joy  and  bliss, 
And  many  a  happier  field  than  this  !  — 

Once  more,  my  Liege,  farewell.' 

JOCK   OF  HAZELUEAN 


*  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladie  ? 
Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 

ENG.  POEMS 13 


194 


THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

I'll  wed  ye  to  my  youngest  son, 
And  ye  sail  be  his  bride. 

And  ye  sail  be  his  bride,  ladie, 
Sae  comely  to  be  seen  '  — 

But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 
For  Jocko'  Hazeldean. 


'  Now  let  this  wilfu'  grief  be  done, 

And  dry  that  cheek  so  pale  ;  lo 

Young  Frank  is  chief  of  Erington 

And  lord  of  Langley-dale  ; 
His  step  is  first  in  peaceful  ha', 

His  sword  in  battle  keen  '  — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa'  15 

For  Jock  o'  Hazeldean. 

Ill 

'  A  chain  of  gold  ye  sail  not  lack ; 

Nor  braid  to  bind  your  hair, 
Nor  mettled  hound,  nor  managed  hawk. 

Nor  palfrey  fresh  and  fair  :  20 

And  you  the  foremost  o'  them  a' 

Shall  ride  our  forest-queen  '  — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  o'  Hazeldean. 


The  kirk  was  deck'd  at  morning-tide. 
The  tapers  glimmer'd  fair  ;       . 

The  priest  and  bridegroom  wait  the  bride. 
And  dame  and  knight  are  there. 

They  sought  her  baith  by  bower  and  ha' ; 
The  ladie  was  not  seen  ! 


SCOTT  195 

She's  o'er  the  Border,  and  awa' 
Wi'  Jock  o'  Hazeldean. 

LOCHINVAR 

LADY    heron's    SONG 

[From  Mai'mioji,  Canto  V] 

O,  YOUNG  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  west, 

Through  all  the  wide  Border  his  steed  was  the  best ; 

And  save  his  good  broadsword,  he  weapon  had  none, 

He  rode  all  unarm'd,  and  he  rode  all  alone. 

So  faithful  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war,  5 

There  never  was  knight  like  the  young  Lochinvar. 

He  stayed  not  for  brake,  and  he  stopped  not  for  stone, 

He  swam  the  Eske  river  where  ford  there  was  none ; 

But,  ere  he  alighted  at  Netherby  gate, 

The  bride  had  consented,  the  gallant  came  late  :  10 

For  a  laggard  in  love,  and  a  dastard  in  war, 

Was  to  wed  the  fair  Ellen  of  brave  Lochinvar. 

So  boldly  he  enter'd  the  Netherby  Hall, 

Among  brides-men,  and  kinsmen,  and  brothers,  and  all: 

Then  spoke  the  bride's  father,  his  hand  on  his  sword  15 

(For  the  poor  craven  bridegroom  said  never  a  word), 

'  O  come  you  in  peace  here,  or  come  ye  in  war. 

Or  to  dance  at  our  bridal,  young  Lord  Lochinvar  ? ' 

'  I  long  wooed  your  daughter,  my  suit  you  denied  ;  — 

Love  swells  like  the  Solway,  but  ebbs  like  its  tide  —  20 

And  now  I  am  come,  with  this  lost  love  of  mine, 

To  lead  but  one  measure,  drink  one  cup  of  wine. 

There  are  maidens  in  Scotland  more  lovely  by  far, 

That  would  gladly  be  bride  to  the  young  Lochinvar.' 


196  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

The  bride  kiss'd  the  goblet :  the  knight  took  it  up,  25 

He  quaffed  off  the  wine,  and  he  threw  down  the  cup. 

She  looked  down  to  blush,  and  she  looked  up  to  sigh, 

With  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  tear  in  her  eye. 

He  took  her  soft  hand,  ere  her  mother  could  bar,  — 

'  Now  tread  we  a  measure  ! '  said  young  Lochinvar.  30 

So  stately  his  form,  and  so  lovely  her  face, 

That  never  a  hall  such  a  galliard  did  grace  ; 

While  her  mother  did  fret  and  her  father  did  fume, 

And  the  bridegroom  stood  dangling  his  bonnet  and  plume  ; 

And  the  bridemaidens  whispered,  '  'Twere  better  by  far  35 

To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  young  Lochinvar.' 

One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear. 

When  they  reach'd  the  hall-door,  and  the  charger  stood  near  ; 

So  light  to  the  croupe  the  fair  lady  he  swung, 

So  light  to  the  saddle  before  her  he  sprung !  40 

'  She  is  won  !  we  are  gone,  over  bank,  bush,  and  scaur  ; 

They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,'  quoth  young  Lochinvar. 

There  was  mounting  'mong  Graemes  of  the  Netherby  clan  ; 

Forsters,  Fenwicks,  and  Musgraves,  they  rode  and  they  ran  : 

There  was  racing  and  chasing,  on  Cannobie  Lee,  45 

But  the  lost  bride  of  Netherby  ne'er  did  they  see. 

So  daring  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war. 

Have  you  e'er  heard  of  gallant  like  young  Lochinvar  ? 


BORDER   SONG 

[From    The  Monasiery'] 
I 

March,  march,  Ettrick  and  Teviotdale, 

Why  the  deil  dinna  ye  march  forward  in  order? 


COLERIDGE  I 97 

March,  march,  Eskdale  and  Liddesdale, 

All  the  Blue  Bonnets  are  bound  for  the  Border. 

Many  a  banner  spread,  5 

Flutters  above  your  head. 
Many  a  crest  that  is  famous  in  story. 

Mount  and  make  ready  then, 

Sons  of  the  mountain  glen, 
Fight  for  the  Queen  and  the  old  Scottish  glory !  lo 


Come  from  the  hills  where  your  hirsels  are  grazing, 

Come  from  the  glen  of  the  buck  and  the  roe  ; 
Come  to  the  crag  where  the  beacon  is  blazing. 
Come  with  the  buckler,  the  lance,  and  the  bow. 

Trumpets  are  sounding,  15 

War-steeds  are  bounding. 
Stand  to  your  arms  then,  and  march  in  good  order, 

England  shall  many  a  day 

Tell  of  the  bloody  fray. 
When  the  Blue  Bonnets  came  over  the  Border  !  20 


SAMUEL  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE 

1772-1834 

FRANCE:    AN    ODE 


Ye  Clouds  !  that  far  above  me  float  and  pause, 
Whose  pathless  march  no  mortal  may  control ! 
Ye  Ocean-Waves  !  that,  wheresoe'er  ye  roll, 

Yield  homage  only  to  eternal  laws  ! 

Ye  Woods  !  that  listen  to  the  night-birds'  singing. 


igS  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Midway  the  smooth  and  perilous  slope  reclined, 
Save  when  your  own  imperious  branches  swinging, 

Have  made  a  solemn  music  of  the  wind  ! 
Where  like  a  man  beloved  of  God, 
Through  glooms,  which  never  woodman  trod. 

How  oft,  pursuing  fancies  holy, 
My  moonlight  way  o'er  flowering  weeds  I  wound, 

Inspired,  beyond  the  guess  of  folly. 
By  each  rude  shape  and  wild  unconquerable  sound 
O  ye  loud  Waves  !  and  O  ye  Forests  high  ! 

And  O  ye  Clouds  that  far  above  me  soared  ! 
Thou  rising  Sun  !  thou  blue  rejoicing  Sky ! 

Yea,  every  thing  that  is  and  will  be  free ! 

Bear  witness  for  me,  wheresoe'er  ye  be, 

With  what  deep  worship  I  have  still  adored 
The  spirit  of  divinest  Liberty. 


When  France  in  wrath  her  giant-limbs  upreared. 

And  with  that  oath,  which  smote  air,  earth,  and  sea. 

Stamped  her  strong  foot  and  said  she  would  be  free, 
Bear  witness  for  me,  how  I  hoped  and  feared !  25 

With  what  a  joy  my  lofty  gratulation 

Unawed  I  sang,  amid  a  slavish  band  : 
And  when  to  whelm  the  disenchanted  nation. 

Like  fiends  embattled  by  a  wizard's  wand, 

The  monarchs  marched  in  evil  day,  30 

And  Britain  joined  the  dire  array  ; 

Though  dear  her  shores  and  circling  ocean, 
Though  many  friendships,  many  youthful  loves 

Had  swol'n  the  patriot  emotion 
And  flung  a  magic  light  o'er  all  her  hills  and  groves;  35 

Yet  still  my  voice,  unaltered,  sang  defeat 

To  all  that  braved  the  tyrant-quelling  lance, 


COLERIDGE  1 99 

And  shame  too  long  delayed  and  vain  retreat ! 

For  ne'er,  O  Liberty !  with  partial  aim 

I  dimmed  thy  light  or  damped  thy  holy  flame ;  40 

But  blessed  the  paeans  of  delivered  France, 
And  hung  my  head  and  wept  at  Britain's  name. 

Ill 

'  And  what,'  I  said,  '  though  Blasphemy's  loud  scream 
With  that  sweet  music  of  deliverance  strove ! 
Though  all  the  fierce  and  drunken  passions  wove  45 

A  dance  more  wild  than  e'er  was  maniac's  dream ! 

Ye  storms,  that  round  the  dawning  east  assembled. 
The  sun  was  rising,  though  ye  hid  his  light !  ' 

And  when,  to  soothe  my  soul,  that  hoped  and  trembled, 
The  dissonance  ceased,  and  all  seemed  calm  and  bright ;  5° 
When  France  her  front  deep-scarr'd  and  gory 
Concealed  with  clustering  wreaths  of  glory; 

When,  insupportably  advancing. 
Her  arm  made  mockery  of  the  warrior's  tramp ; 

While  timid  looks  of  fury  glancing,  55 

Domestic  treason,  crushed  beneath  her  fatal  stamp. 
Writhed  like  a  wounded  dragon  in  his  gore  ; 

Then  I  reproached  my  fears  that  would  not  flee ; 
'  And  soon,'  I  said,  '  shall  Wisdom  teach  her  lore 
In  the  low  huts  of  them  that  toil  and  groan  !  60 

And,  conquering  by  her  happiness  alone. 

Shall  France  compel  the  nations  to  be  free. 
Till  Love  and  Joy  look  round,  and  call  the  Earth  their  own.' 

IV 

Forgive  me,  Freedom  !  O  forgive  those  dreams  ! 

I  hear  thy  voice,  I  hear  thy  loud  lament,  65 

From  bleak  Helvetia's  icy  caverns  sent  — 
I  hear  thy  groans  upon  her  blood-stained  streams ! 


200  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

Heroes,  that  for  your  peaceful  country  perished, 
And  ye  that,  fleeing,  spot  your  mountain-snows 

With  bleeding  wounds  ;  forgive  me,  that  I  cherished      70 
One  thought  that  ever  blessed  your  cruel  foes  ! 

To  scatter  rage  and  traitorous  guilt 

Where  Peace  her  jealous  home  had  built ; 
A  patriot-race  to  disinherit 
Of  all  that  made  their  stormy  wilds  so  dear ;  75 

And  with  inexpiable  spirit 
To  taint  the  bloodless  freedom  of  the  mountaineer  — 
O  France,  that  mockest  Heaven,  adulterous,  blind, 

And  patriot  only  in  pernic'ous  toils  ! 
Are  these  thy  boasts,  Champion  of  human  kind  ?  80 

To  mix  with  Kings  in  the  low  lust  of  sway, 
Yell  in  the  hunt,  and  share  the  murderous  prey ; 
To  insult  the  shrine  of  Liberty  with  spoils 

From  freemen  torn  ;  to  tempt  and  to  betray  ? 


The  Sensual  and  the  Dark  rebel  in  vain,  85 

Slaves  by  their  own  compulsion  !     In  mad  game 
They  burst  their  manacles  and  wear  the  name 

Of  Freedom,  graven  on  a  heavier  chain  ! 
O  Liberty  !  with  profitless  endeavor 
Have  I  pursued  thee,  many  a  weary  hour ;  90 

But  thou  nor  swell'st  the  victor's  strain,  nor  ever 
Didst  breathe  thy  soul  in  forms  of  human  power. 
Alike  from  all,  howe'er  they  praise  thee, 
(Nor  prayer,  nor  boastful  name  delays  thee) 

Alike  from  Priestcraft's  harpy  minions,  95 

And  factious  Blasphemy's  obscener  slaves. 
Thou  speedest  on  thy  subtle  pinions, 
The  guide  of  homeless  winds,  and  playmate  of  the  waves  ! 
And  there  I  feel  thee  !  —  on  that  sea-cliff's  verge. 


COLERIDGE  20I 

Whose  pines,  scarce  traveled  by  the  breeze  above,  loo 

Had  made  one  murmur  with  the  distant  surge  ! 
Yes,  while  I  stood  and  gazed,  my  temples  bare, 
And  shot  my  being  through  earth,  sea  and  air, 

Possessing  all  things  with  intensest  love, 
O  Liberty  !  my  spirit  felt  thee  there.  105 


HYMN  BEFORE    SUNRISE,  IN  THE  VALE   OF 
CHAMOUNI 

Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning-star 
In  his  steep  course  ?     So  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald  awful  head,  O  sovran  Blanc ! 
The  Arve  and  Arveiron  at  thy  base 

Rave  ceaselessly  ;  but  thou,  most  awful  Form  !  5 

Risest  from  forth  thy  silent  sea  of  pines. 
How  silently !     Around  thee  and  above 
Deep  is  the  air,  and  dark,  substantial,  black, 
An  ebon  mass  :  methinks  thou  piercest  it 
As  with  a  wedge  !     But  when  I  look  again,  10 

It  is  thine  own  calm  home,  thy  crystal  shrine, 
Thy  habitation  from  eternity  ! 

0  dread  and  silent  Mount !     I  gazed  upon  thee, 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense. 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought :  entranced  in  prayer       15 

1  worshiped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet,  like  some  sweet  beguiling  melody, 
So  sweet,  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it, 
Thou,  the  meanwhile,  wast  blending  with  my  Thought. 
Yea,  with  my  life  and  life's  own  secret  joy  :  2c 

Till  the  dilating  Soul,  enrapt,  transfused. 
Into  the  mighty  vision  passing  —  there, 
As  in  her  natural  form,  swell'd  vast  to  Heaven ! 


202  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Awake,  my  soul !     Not  only  passive  praise 
Thou  owest !  not  alone  these  swelling  tears,  25 

Mute  thanks  and  secret  ecstasy  !     Awake, 
Voice  of  sweet  song  !     Awake,  my  heart,  awake  ! 
Green  vales  and  icy  cliffs,  all  join  my  hymn. 

Thou  first  and  chief,  sole  sovran  of  the  Vale  ! 
O  struggling  with  the  darkness  all  the  night,  30 

And  visited  all  night  by  troops  of  stars, 
Or  when  they  climb  the  sky  or  when  they  sink: 
Companion  of  the  morning-star  at  dawn. 
Thyself  earth's  rosy  star,  and  of  the  dawn 
Co-herald  :  wake,  O  wake,  and  utter  praise  !  35 

Who  sank  thy  sunless  pillars  deep  in  Earth  ? 
Who  fill'd  thy  countenance  with  rosy  light  ? 
Who  made  thee  parent  of  perpetual  streams  ? 

And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents  fiercely  glad ! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death,  40 

From  dark  and  icy  caverns  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks, 
For  ever  shatter'd  and  the  same  for  ever  ? 
Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life, 
Your  strength,  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy,  45 

Unceasing  thunder  and  eternal  foam? 
And  who  commanded  (and  the  silence  came). 
Here  let  the  billows  stiffen,  and  have  rest  ? 

Ye  Ice-falls  !  ye  that  from  the  mountain's  brow 
Adown  enormous  ravines  slope  amain  —  50 

Torrents,  methinks,  that  heard  a  mighty  voice 
And  stopped  at  once  amid  their  maddest  plunge  ! 
Motionless  torrents  !  silent  cataracts  ! 
Who  made  you  glorious  as  the  gates  of  Heaven 
Beneath  the  keen  full  moon  ?     Who  bade  the  sun  55 

Clothe  you  with  rainbows  ?     Who,  with  living  flowers 


COLERIDGE  203 

Of  loveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet  ?  — 

God  !  let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations, 

Answisr  !  and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God  ! 

God  !  sing  ye  meadow-streams  with  gladsome  voice  !         60 

Ye  pine-groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds ! 

And  they  too  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of  snow. 

And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder,  God  ! 

Ye  living  flowers  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost ! 
Ye  wild  goats  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest !  65 

Ye  eagles,  playmates  of  the  mountain-storm  ! 
Ye  lightnings,  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds ! 
Ye  signs  and  wonders  of  the  element ! 
Utter  forth  God,  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise  1 

Thou  too,  hoar  Mount !  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks,      70 
Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  unheard. 
Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene 
Into  the  depth  of  clouds  that  veil  thy  breast  — 
Thou  too  again,  stupendous  Mountain  !  thou 
That  as  I  raise  my  head,  awhile  bowed  low  75 

In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 
Slow  traveling  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 
Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud, 
To  rise  before  me  —  Rise,  O  ever  rise, 

Rise  like  a  cloud  of  incense  from  the  Earth  !  80 

Thou  kingly  Spirit  throned  among  the  hills, 
Thou  dread  ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven, 
Great  Hierarch  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun. 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God.  85 


204  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

KUBLA    KHAN  ;    OR,    A   VISION    IN    A   DREAM 
A   FRAGMENT 

In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 
A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree  : 
Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through  caverns  measureless  to  man 
Down  to  a  sunless  sea.  3 

So  twice  five  miles  of  fertile  ground 
With  walls  and  towers  were  girdled  round  : 
And  here  were  gardens  bright  with  sinuous  rills, 
Where  blossomed  many  an  incense-bearing  tree  ; 
And  here  were  forests  ancient  as  the  hills,  lo 

Enfolding  sunny  spots  of  greenery. 

But  oh  !  that  deep  romantic  chasm  which  slanted 
Down  the  green  hill  athwart  a  cedarn  cover  ! 
A  savage  place  !  as  holy  and  enchanted 
As  e'er  beneath  a  waning  moon  was  haunted  15 

By  woman  wailing  for  her  demon-lover  ! 
And  from  this  chasm,  with  ceaseless  turmoil  seething, 
As  if  this  earth  in  fast  thick  pants  were  breathing, 
A  mighty  fountain  momently  was  forced  ; 
Amid  whose  swift  half-intermitted  burst  20 

Huge  fragments  vaulted  like  rebounding  hail, 
Or  chaffy  grain  beneath  the  thresher's  flail : 
And  'mid  these  dancing  rocks  at  once  and  ever 
It  flung  up  momently  the  sacred  river. 

Five  miles  meandering  with  a  mazy  motion  25 

Through  wood  and  dale  the  sacred  river  ran. 
Then  reached  the  caverns  measureless  to  man, 
And  sank  in  tumult  to  a  lifeless  ocean  : 
And  'mid  this  tumult  Kubla  heard  from  far 
Ancestral  voices  prophesying  war  !  30 


LAMB  205 

The  shadow  of  the  dome  of  pleasure 

Floated  midway  on  the  waves  ; 

Where  was  heard  the  mingled  measure 

From  the  fountain  and  the  caves. 
It  was  a  miracle  of  rare  device,  35 

A  sunny  pleasure-dome  with  caves  of  ice  ! 

A  damsel  with  a  dulcimer 

In  a  vision  once  I  saw  : 

It  was  an  Abyssinian  maid, 

And  on  her  dulcimer  she  played,  40 

Singing  of  Mount  Abora. 

Could  I  revive  within  me 

Her  symphon)'  and  song, 

To  such  deep  delight  'twould  win  me, 
That  with  music  loud  and  long,  45 

I  would  build  that  dome  in  air. 
That  sunny  dome  !  those  caves  of  ice  ! 
And  all  who  heard  should  see  them  there. 
And  all  should  cry,  Beware  !     Beware  ! 
His  flashing  eyes,  his  floating  hair  !  50 

Weave  a  circle  round  him  thrice, 
And  close  your  eyes  with  holy  dread, 
For  he  on  honey-dew  hath  fed, 
And  drunk  the  milk  of  Paradise. 


CHARLES  LAMB 

1775-1834 

SONNET   XI 

We  were  two  pretty  babes,  the  youngest  she, 
The  youngest,  and  the  loveliest  far,  I  ween. 


206'  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

And  Innocence  her  name.     The  time  has  been 
We  two  did  love  each  other's  company  ; 
Time  was  we  two  had  wept  to  have  been  apart 
But  when  by  show  of  seeming  good  beguil'd, 
I  left  the  garb  and  manners  of  a  child, 
And  my  first  love  for  man's  society, 
Defiling  with  the  world  my  virgin  heart  — 
My  loved  companion  dropped  a  tear,  and  fled, 
And  hid  in  deepest  shades  her  awful  head. 
Beloved,  who  shall  tell  me  where  thou  art  — 
In  what  delicious  Eden  to  be  found  — 
That  I  may  seek  thee  the  wide  world  around  ? 


WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR 

1775-1864 

ROSE   AYLMER 

Ah  what  avails  the  sceptered  race, 

Ah  what  the  form  divine  ! 

What  every  virtue,  every  grace  ! 

Rose  Aylmer,  all  were  thine. 

Rose  Aylmer,  whom  these  wakeful  eyes 

May  weep,  but  never  see, 

A  night  of  memories  and  of  sighs 

I  consecrate  to  thee. 


CAMPBELL  207 

THOMAS  CAMPBELL 

1777-1844 

HOHENLINDEN 

On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

But  Linden  saw  another  sight,  5 

When  the  drum  beat,  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 
The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array'd, 
Each  horseman  drew  his  battle  blade,  10 

And  furious  every  charger  neigh'd 
To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

Then  shook  the  hills,  with  thunder  riven. 
Then  rushed  the  steed,  to  battle  driven. 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven  15 

Far  flashed  the  red  artillery. 

But  redder  yet  that  light  shall  glow 
On  Linden's  hills  of  stained  snow, 
And  bloodier  yet  the  torrent  flow 

Of  Tser,  rolling  rapidly.  20 

'Tis  morn,  but  scarce  yon  level  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war-clouds,  rolling  dun. 
Where  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun, 
Shout  in  their  sulphurous  canopy. 

The  combat  deepens.     On,  ye  brave,  25 

Who  rush  to  glory  or  the  grave ! 


2o8  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Wave,  Munich  !  all  thy  banners  wave, 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry  ! 

Few,  few,  shall  part  where  many  meet ! 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding-sheet,  30 

And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulcher. 


THOMAS    MOORE 

1779-1852 

OFT    IN    THE    STILLY   NIGHT 

Oft,  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  Slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
'Fond  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me  ; 

The  smiles,  the  tears,  5 

Of  boyhood's  years. 
The  words  of  love  then  spoken  ; 
The  eyes  that  shone, 
Now  dimm'd  and  gone. 
The  cheerful  hearts  now  broken  !  10 

Thus,  in  the  stilly  night. 

Ere  Slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 

When  I  remember  all  15 

The  friends,  so  link'd  together, 
I've  seen  around  me  fall. 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather  ; 
I  feel  like  one. 
Who  treads  alone  20 


HUNT  209 


Some  banquet-hall  deserted, 
Whose  lights  are  fled, 
Whose  garlands  dead, 
And  all  but  he  departed  ! 
Thus,  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  Slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  Memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me. 


LEIGH   HUNT 

1784-1859 

ABOU    BEN    ADHEM 

Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase !) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room. 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold  :  — ■  5 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold. 
And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
'  What  writest  thou  ? '     The  vision  raised  its  head, 
And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 
Answered,  '  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord.'  10 

*  And  is  mine  one  ? '  said  Abou.     '  Nay,  not  so,' 
Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 
But  cheerly  still ;  and  said, '  I  pray  thee,  then. 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men.' 

The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished.     The  next  night  15 

It  came  again  with  a  great  wakening  light. 
And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed. 
And,  lo  !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest ! 

ENG.   POEMS —  14 


2IO  THE   ROiMANTIC   PERIOD 

GEORGE  NOEL  GORDON,  LORD 
BYRON 

1788-1824 

VISION    OF    BELSHAZZAR 


The  king  was  on  his  throne, 
The  satraps  thronged  the  hall : 
A  thousand  bright  lamps  shone 
O'er  that  high  festival. 
A  thousand  cups  of  gold, 
In  Judah  deemed  divine  — 
Jehovah's  vessels  hold 
The  godless  Heathen's  wine! 


In  that  same  hour  and  hall, 

The  fingers  of  a  hand  10 

Came  forth  against  the  wall, 

And  wrote  as  if  on  sand  : 

The  fingers  of  a  man  ;  — 

A  solitary  hand 

Along  the  letters  ran,  15 

And  traced  them  like  a  wand. 


Ill 

The  monarch  saw  and  shook. 
And  bade  no  more  rejoice  ; 
All  bloodless  waxed  his  look. 
And  tremuJous  his  voice. 


BYRON  2 1 1 


'  Let  the  men  of  lore  appear, 
The  wisest  of  the  earth, 
And  expound  the  words  of  fear, 
Which  mar  our  royal  mirth.' 


Chaldea's  seers  are  good,  25 

But  here  they  have  no  skill ; 

And  the  unknown  letters  stood 

Untold  and  awful  still. 

And  Babel's  men  of  age 

Are  wise  and  deep  in  lore  ;  30 

But  now  they  \vere  not  sage, 

They  saw  —  but  knew  no  more. 


A  captive  in  the  land, 

A  stranger  and  a  youth. 

He  heard  the  king's  command,  35 

He  saw  that  writing's  truth. 

The  lamps  around  were  bright, 

The  prophecy  in  view  ; 

He  read  it  on  that  night,  — 

The  morrow  proved  it  true.  40 

VI 

'  Belshazzar's  grave  is  made, 

His  kingdom  passed  away, 

He,  in  the  balance  weighed, 

Is  light  and  worthless  clay  ; 

The  shroud  his  robe  of  state,  45 

His  canopy  the  stone  ; 

The  Mede  is  at  his  gate ! 

The  Persian  on  his  throne  ! ' 


212  THE   ROMANTIC   TERIOD 

THE   DESTRUCTION    OF   SENNACHERIB 


The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 
And  his  cohorts  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold  ; 
And  the  sheen  of  their  spears  was  like  stars  on  the  sea, 
When  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee. 

II 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Summer  is  green, 
That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset  were  seen  : 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Autumn  hath  blown, 
That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  withered  and  strown. 

Ill 
For  the  Angel  of  Death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast. 
And  breathed  in  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  passed  ; 
And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  waxed  deadly  and  chill, 
And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved  —  and  forever  grew  still 

IV 

And  there  lay  the  steed  with  his  nostril  all  wide. 
But  through  it  there  rolled  not  the  breath  of  his  pride  ; 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping  lay  white  on  the  turf, 
And  cold  as  the  spray  of  the  rock-beating  surf. 

v 
And  there  lay  the  rider  distorted  and  pale. 
With  the  dew  on  his  brow,  and  the  rust  on  his  mail : 
And  the  tents  were  all  silent  —  the  banners  alone  — 
The  lances  unlifted  —  the  trumpet  unblown. 

VI 

And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail. 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal ; 
And  the  might  of  the  Gentile,  unsmote  by  the  sword, 
Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  glance  of  the  Lord  ! 


BYRON  213 

THE    ISLES   OF   GREECE 

[From  Don  Juan,  Canto  III] 


The  Isles  of  Greece,  the  Isles  of  Greece  ! 

Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sung, 
Where  grew  the  arts  of  War  and  Peace, 

Where  Uelos  rose,  and  Phoebus  sprung ! 
Eternal  summer  gilds  them  yet, 
But  all,  except  their  Sun,  is  set. 


The  Scian  and  the  Teian  muse, 

The  Hero's  harp,  the  Lover's  lute. 
Have  found  the  fame  your  shores  refuse ; 

Their  place  of  birth  alone  is  mute  10 

To  sounds  which  echo  further  west 
Than  your  Sires'  '  Islands  of  the  Blest.' 

in 

The  mountains  look  on  Marathon  — 

And  Marathon  looks  on  the  sea  ; 
And  musing  there  an  hour  alone,  15 

I  dreamed  that  Greece  might  still  be  free ; 
For  standing  on  the  Persians'  grave, 
I  could  not  deem  myself  a  slave. 

IV 

A  king  sate  on  the  rocky  brow 

Which  looks  o'er  sea-born  Salamis  ;  20 

And  ships,  by  thousands,  lay  below, 

And  men  in  nations  ;  —  all  were  his  ! 
He  counted  them  at  break  of  day  — 
And  when  the  sun  set,  where  were  they  ? 


214  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 


And  where  are  they  ?  and  where  art  thou,  25 

My  Country  ?     On  thy  voiceless  shore 
The  heroic  lay  is  tuneless  now  — 

The  heroic  bosom  beats  no  more  ! 
And  must  thy  lyre,  so  long  divine, 
Degenerate  into  hands  like  mine  ?  30 


'Tis  something,  in  the  dearth  of  fame 

Though  linked  among  a  fettered  race. 
To  feel  at  least  a  patriot's  shame. 

Even  as  I  sing,  suffuse  my  face  ; 
For  what  is  left  the  poet  here  ?  3.^ 

For  Greeks  a  blush  —  for  Greece  a  tear. 


VII 

Must  we  but  weep  o'er  the  days  more  blest  ? 

Must  zve  but  blush  ?  —  Our  fathers  bled. 
Earth  !  render  back  from  out  thy  breast 

A  remnant  of  our  Spartan  dead  !  40 

Of  the  three  hundred  grant  but  three. 
To  make  a  new  Thermopylai ! 

vm 

What,  silent  still  ?  and  silent  all  ? 

Ah  !  no  ;  —  the  voices  of  the  dead 
Sound  like  a  distant  torrent's  fall,  45 

And  answer,  '  Let  one  living  head. 
But  one  arise,  —  we  come,  we  come  ! ' 
'Tis  but  the  living  who  are  dumb. 


BYRON  2 1  5 

IX 

In  vain  —  in  vain  :  strike  other  chords ; 

Fill  high  the  cup  with  Saniian  wine  !  c,o 

Leave  battles  to  the  Turkish  hordes, 

And  shed  the  blood  of  Scio's  vine  ! 
Hark  !  rising  to  the  ignoble  call  — 
How  answers  each  bold  bacchanal  1 


You  have  the  Pyrrhic  dance  as  yet,  55 

Where  is  the  Pyrrhic  phalanx  gone  ? 
Of  two  such  lessons,  why  forget 

The  nobler  and  the  manlier  one  ? 
You  have  the  letters  Cadmus  gave  — 
Think  ye  he  meant  them  for  a  slave  ?  60 

XI 

Fill  high  the  bowl  with  Samian  wine  ! 

We  will  not  think  of  themes  like  these  ! 
It  made  Anacreon's  song  divine  : 

He  served —  but  served  Polycrates  — 
A  tyrant ;  but  our  masters  then  6^ 

Were  still,  at  least,  our  countrymen. 


The  Tyrant  of  the  Chersonese 

Was  Freedom's  best  and  bravest  friend  ; 

T/ia^  tyrant  .was  Miltiades  ! 
Oh  !    That  the  present  hour  would  lend  70 

Another  despot  of  the  kind  ! 

Such  chains  as  his  were  sure  to  bind. 


75 


2l6  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XIII 

Fill  high  the  bowl  with  Saniian  wine  I 

On  Suli's  rock,  and  Parga's  shore, 
Exists  the  remnant  of  a  line 

Such  as  the  Doric  mothers  bore  ; 
And  there,  perhaps,  some  seed  is  sown, 
The  Heracleidan  blood  might  own. 

XIV 

Trust  not  for  freedom  to  the  Franks  — 

They  have  a  king  who  buys  and  sells  ;  80 

In  native  swords,  and  native  ranks, 

The  only  hope  of  courage  dwells ; 
But  Turkish  force  and  Latin  fraud, 
Would  break  your  shield,  however  broad. 


XV 

Fill  high  the  bowl  with  Samian  wine  !  85 

Our  virgins  dance  beneath  the  shade  — 

I  see  their  glorious  black  eyes  shine  ; 
But  gazing  on  each  glowing  maid, 

My  own  the  burning  tear-drop  laves, 

To  think  such  breasts  must  suckle  slaves.  90 


XVI 

Place  me  on  Sunium's  marbled  steep. 

Where  nothing,  save  the  waves  and  I, 
May  hear  our  mutual  murmurs  sweep  ; 

There,  swan-like,  let  me  sing  and  die  : 
A  land  of  slaves  shall  ne'er  be  mine  —  95 

Uash  down  yon  cup  of  Samian  wine  ! 


BYRON  2 1  7 

SONNET   ON    CHILLON 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  Mind  ! 

Brightest  in  dungeons,  Liberty  !  thou  art : 

For  there  thy  habitation  is  the  heart  — 
The  heart  which  love  of  thee  alone  can  bind  ; 
And  when  thy  sons  to  fetters  are  consigned  —  5 

To  fetters,  and  the  damp  vault's  dayless  gloom. 

Their  country  conquers  with  their  martyrdom, 
And  Freedom's  fame  finds  wings  on  every  wind. 
Chillon  !  thy  prison  is  a  holy  place. 

And  thy  sad  floor  an  altar  —  for  'twas  trod,  10 

Until  his  very  steps  have  left  a  trace 

Worn,  as  if  thy  cold  pavement  were  a  sod. 
By  Bonivard  !  —  May  none  these  marks  efface  ! 

For  thy  appeal  from  tyranny  to  God. 


THE    PRISONER  OF   CHILLON 
A   FABLE 


My  hair  is  grey,  but  not  with  years, 
Nor  grew  it  white 

In  a  single  night. 
As  men's  have  grown  from  sudden  fears  : 
My  limbs  are  bowed,  though  not  with  toil. 

But  rusted  with  a  vile  repose. 
For  they  have  been  a  dungeon's  spoil. 

And  mine  has  been  the  fate  of  those 
To  whom  the  goodly  earth  and  air 
Are  banned,  and  barred  —  forbidden  fare  ; 
But  this  was  for  my  father's  faith 
I  suffered  chains  and  courted  death  ; 


2l8  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

That  father  perished  at  the  stake 

For  tenets  he  would  not  forsake  ; 

And  for  the  same  his  lineal  race  ir 

In  darkness  found  a  dwelling-place ; 

We  were  seven  —  who  now  are  one, 

Six  in  youth,  and  one  in  age, 
Finished  as  they  had  begun, 

Proud  of  Persecution's  rage  ;  20 

One  in  fire,  and  two  in  field, 
Their  belief  with  blood  have  sealed, 
Dying  as  their  father  died. 
For  the  God  their  foes  denied  ;  — 
Three  were  in  a  dungeon  cast,  25 

Of  whom  this  wreck  is  left  the  last. 


There  are  seven  pillars  of  Gothic  mould. 

In  Chillon's  dungeons  deep  and  old. 

There  are  seven  columns,  massy  and  grey, 

Dim  with  a  dull  imprisoned  ray,  30 

A  sunbeam  which  hath  lost  its  way, 

And  through  the  crevice  and  the  cleft 

Of  the  thick  wall  is  fallen  and  left ;  ■ 

Creeping  o'er  the  floor  so  damp, 

Like  a  marsh's  meteor  lamp  :  ^s 

And  in  each  pillar  there  is  a  ring, 

And  in  each  ring  there  is  a  chain  ; 

That  iron  is  a  cankering  thing. 

For  in  these  limbs  its  teeth  remain, 

With  marks  that  will  not  wear  away,  40 

Till  I  have  done  with  this  new  day. 

Which  now  is  painful  to  these  eyes. 

Which  have  not  seen  the  sun  so  rise 

For  years  —  I  cannot  count  them  o'er, 


BYRON  1 1 9 

I  lost  their  long  and  heavy  score  45 

When  my  last  brother  drooped  and  died, 
And  I  lay  living  by  his  side. 

Ill 

They  chained  us  each  to  a  column  stone, 

And  we  were  three  —  yet,  each  alone  ; 

We  could  not  move  a  single  pace,  50 

We  could  not  see  each  other's  face. 

But  with  that  pale  and  livid  light 

That  made  us  strangers  in  our  sight : 

And  thus  together  —  yet  apart, 

Fettered  in  hand,  but  pined  in  heart,  55 

'Twas  still  some  solace  in  the  dearth 

Of  the  pure  elements  of  earth, 

To  hearken  to  each  other's  speech, 

And  each  turn  comforter  to  each 

With  some  new  hope,  or  legend  old,  60 

Or  song  heroically  bold ; 

But  even  these  at  length  grew  cold. 

Our  voices  took  a  dreary  tone, 

An  echo  of  the  dungeon  stone, 

A  grating  sound,  not  full  and  free,  65 

As  they  of  yore  were  wont  to  be  : 

It  might  be  fancy  —  but  to  me 
They  never  sounded  like  our  own. 


I  was  the  eldest  of  the  three. 

And  to  uphold  and  cheer  the  rest  70 

I  ought  to  do  —  and  did  my  best  — 
And  each  did  well  in  his  degree. 

The  youngest  whom  my  father  loved. 
Because  our  mother's  brow  was  given 


75 


220  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

To  him,  with  eyes  as  blue  as  heaven  — 

Por  him  my  soul  was  sorely  moved  : 
And  truly  might -it  be  distrest 
To  see  such  bird  in  such  a  nest ; 
For  he  was  beautiful  as  day  — 
(When  day  was  beautiful  to  me  80 

As  to  young  eagles,  being  free)  — 

A  polar  day  which  will  not  see 
A  sunset  till  its  summer's  gone, 

Its  sleepless  summer  of  long  light, 
The  snow-clad  offspring  of  the  sun  :  85 

And  thus  he  was  as  pure  and  bright, 
And  in  his  natural  spirit  gay, 
With  tears  for  nought  but  others'  ills. 
And  then  they  flowed  like  mountain  rills, 
Unless  he  could  assuage  the  woe 
Which  he  abhorr'd  to  view  below. 


90 


95 


The  other  was  as  pure  of  mind, 
But  formed  to  combat  with  his  kind  ; 
Strong  in  his  frame,  and  of  a  mood 
Which  'gainst  the  world  in  war  had  stood. 
And  perished  in  the  foremost  rank 

With  joy  :  —  but  not  in  chains  to  pine  : 
His  spirit  withered  with  their  clank, 

I  saw  it  silently  decline  — 

And  so  perchance  in  sooth  did  mine  :  100 

But  yet  I  forced  it  on  to  cheer 
Those  relics  of  a  home  so  dear. 
He  was  a  hunter  of  the  hills, 

Had  followed  there  the  deer  and  wolf; 

To  him  this  dungeon  was  a  gulf,  105 

And  fettered  feet  the  worst  of  ills. 


BYRON  221 


Lake  Leman  lies  by  Chillon's  walls  : 
A  thousand  feet  in  depth  below 
Its  massy  waters  meet  and  flow  ; 

Thus  much  the  fathom-line  was  sent  no 

From  Chillon's  snow-white  battlement. 

Which  round  about  the  wave  enthralls : 
A  double  dungeon  wall  and  wave 
Have  made  —  and  like  a  living  grave. 
Below  the  surface  of  the  lake  115 

The  dark  vault  lies  whei'ein  we  lay : 
We  heard  it  ripple  night  and  day  ; 
Sounding  o'er  our  heads  it  knocked  ; 
And  I  have  felt  the  winter's  spray 
Wash  through  the  bars  when  winds  were  high         120 
And  wanton  in  the  happy  sky ; 

And  then  the  very  rock  hath  rocked, 

And  I  have  felt  it  shake,  unshocked, 
Because  I  could  have  smiled  to  see 
The  death  that  would  have  set  me  free.  125 

VII 

I  said  my  nearer  brother  pined, 

I  said  his  mighty  heart  declined, 

He  loath 'd  and  put  away  his  food  ; 

It  was  not  that  'twas  coarse  and  rude, 

For  we  were  used  to  hunters'  fare,  130 

And  for  the  like  had  little  care  : 

The  milk  drawn  from  the  mountain  goat 

Was  changed  for  water  from  the  moat, 

Our  bread  was  such  as  captives'  tears 

Have  moisten 'd  many  a  thousand  years,  135 

Since  man  first  pent  his  fellow  men 

Like  brutes  within  an  iron  den  ; 


222  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

But  what  were  these  to  us  or  him  ? 

These  wasted  not  his  heart  or  limb  ; 

My  brother's  soul  was  of  that  mould  140 

Which  in  a  palace  had  grown  cold, 

Had  his  free  breathing  been  denied 

The  range  of  the  steep  mountain's  side. 

But  why  delay  the  truth  ?  —  he  died  : 

I  saw,  and  could  not  hold  his  head,  145 

Nor  reach  his  dying  hand  —  nor  dead  — 

Though  hard  I  strove,  but  strove  in  vain. 

To  rend  and  gnash  my  bonds  in  twain. 

He  died  —  and  they  unlocked  his  chain, 

And  scoop'd  for  him  a  shallow  grave  150 

Even  from  the  cold  earth  of  our  cave. 

I  begged  them,  as  a  boon  to  lay 

His  corse  in  dust  whereon  the  day 

Might  shine  —  it  was  a  foolish  thought, 

But  then  within  my  brain  it  wrought,  155 

That  even  in  death  his  free-born  breast 

In  such  a  dungeon  could  not  rest. 

I  might  have  spared  my  idle  prayer  — 

They  coldly  laugh'd  —  and  laid  him  there  : 

The  flat  and  turfless  earth  above  160 

The  being  we  so  much  did  love  ; 

His  empty  chain  above  it  leant, 

Such  Murder's  fitting  monument ! 


VIII 

But  he,  the  favorite  and  the  flower, 

Most  cherish 'd  since  his  natal  hour,  165 

His  mother's  image  in  fair  face, 

The  infant  love  of  all  his  race. 

His  martyr'd  father's  dearest  thought, 

My  latest  care,  for  whom  1  sought 


BYRON  223 

To  hoard  my  life,  that  his  might  be  170 

Less  wretched  now,  and  one  day  free  ; 

He,  too,  who  yet  had  held  untired 

A  spirit  natural  or  inspired  — 

He,  too,  was  struck,  and  day  by  day 

Was  withered  on  the  stalk  away.  175 

Oh,  God  !  it  is  a  fearful  thing 

To  see  the  human  soul  take  wing 

In  any  shape,  in  any  mood  :  — 

I've  seen  it  rushing  forth  in  blood, 

I've  seen  it  on  the  breaking  ocean  180 

Strive  with  a  swoln  convulsive  motion, 

I've  seen  the  sick  and  ghastly  bed 

Of  Sin  delirious  with  its  dread  : 

But  these  were  horrors  —  this  was  woe 

Unmix'd  with  such  —  but  sure  and  slow  :  185 

He  faded,  and  so  calm  and  meek, 

So  softly,  worn,  so  sweetly  weak. 

So  tearless,  yet  so  tender  —  kind, 

And  grieved  for  those  he  left  behind  ; 

With  all  the  while  a  cheek  whose  bloom  190 

Was  as  a  mockery  of  the  tomb, 

Whose  tints  as  gently  sunk  away 

As  a  departing  rainbow's  ray; 

An  eye  of  most  transparent  light. 

That  almost  made  the  dungeon  bright ;  195 

And  not  a  word  of  murmur  —  not 

A  groan  o'ei'  his  untimely  lot,  — 

A  little  talk  of  better  days, 

A  little  hope  my  own  to  raise. 

For  I  was  sunk  in  silence —  lost  200 

In  this  last  loss,  of  all  the  most ; 

And  then  the  sighs  he  would  suppress 

Of  fainting  Nature's  feebleness. 

More  slowly  drawn,  grew  less  and  less: 


224  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

I  listened,  but  I  could  not  hear ; 

I  called,  for  I  was  wild  with  fear  ; 

I  knew  'twas  hopeless,  but  my  dread 

Would  not  be  thus  admonished  ; 

I  called,  and  thought  I  heard  a  sound  — 

I  burst  my  chain  with  one  strong  bound, 

And  rushed  to  him  :  —  I  found  him  not, 

/only  stirred  in  this  black  spot, 

/only  lived,  /only  drew 

The  accursed  breath  of  dungeon-dew ; 

The  last,  the  sole,  the  dearest  link 

Between  me  and  the  eternal  brink, 

Which  bound  me  to  my  failing  race, 

Was  broken  in  this  fatal  place. 

One  on  the  earth,  and  one  beneath  — 

My  brothers  —  both  had  ceased  to  breathe 

I  took  that  hand  which  lay  so  still, 

Alas  !  my  own  was  full  as  chill  ; 

I  had  not  strength  to  stir  or  strive, 

But  felt  that  I  was  still  alive  — 

A  frantic  feeling,  when  we  know 

That  what  we  love  shall  ne'er  be  so. 

I  know  not  why 

I  could  not  die, 
I  had  no  earthly  hope  —  but  faith, 
And  that  forbade  a  selfish  death. 


205 


215 


225 


230 


IX 

What  next  befell  me  then  and  there 

I  know  not  well  —  I  never  knew  — 
First  came  the  loss  of  light,  and  air, 

And  then  of  darkness  too  : 
I  had  no  thought,  no  feeling  —  none  —  235 

Among  the  stones,  I  stood  a  stone, 


BYRON  225 

And  was,  scarce  conscious  what  I  wist, 

As  shrubless  crags  within  the  mist ; 

For  all  was  blank,  and  bleak,  and  grey; 

It  was  not  night  —  it  was  not  day  ;  240 

It  was  not  even  the  dungeon-light, 

So  hateful  to  my  heavy  sight. 

But  vacancy  absorbing  space. 

And  fixedness —  without  a  place  ; 

There  were  no  stars  —  no  earth  —  no  time  —         245 

No  check —  no  change —  no  good —  no  crime  — 

But  silence,  and  a  stirless  breath 

Which  neither  was  of  life  nor  death  ; 

A  sea  of  stagnant  idleness, 

BUnd,  boundless,  mute,  and  motionless  !  250 


A  light  broke  in  upon  my  brain,  — 

It  was  the  carol  of  a  bird  ; 
It  ceased,  and  then  it  came  again. 

The  sweetest  song  ear  ever  heard, 
And  mine  was  thankful,  till  my  eyes  255 

Ran  over  with  the  glad  surprise. 
And  they  that  moment  could  not  see 
I  was  the  mate  of  misery  ; 
But  then  by  dull  degrees  came  back 
My  senses  to  their  wonted  track  ;  260 

I  saw  the  dungeon  walls  and  floor 
Close  slowly  round  me  as  before, 
I  saw  the  glimmer  of  the  sun 
Creeping  as  it  before  had  done. 
But  through  the  crevice  where  it  came  265 

That  bird  was  perched,  as  fond  and  tame, 

And  tamer  than  upon  the  tree  ; 
A  lovely  bird,  with  azure  wings, 

ENG.  PCIEMS —  15 


226  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

And  song  that  said  a  thousand  things, 

And  seem'd  to  say  them  all  for  me !  270 

I  never  saw  its  like  before, 
I  ne'er  shall  see  its  likeness  more: 
It  seem'd  like  me  to  want  a  mate, 
But  was  not  half  so  desolate. 

And  it  was  come  to  love  me  when  275 

None  lived  to  love  me  so  again, 
And  cheering  from  my  dungeon's  brink, 
Had  brought  me  back  to  feel  and  think. 
I  know  not  if  it  late  were  free, 

Or  broke  its  cage  to  perch  on  mine,  280 

But  knowing  well  captivity, 

Sweet  bird  !  I  could  not  wish  for  thine  1 
Or  if  it  were,  in  winged  guise, 
A  visitant  from  Paradise  ; 

For — Heaven  forgive  that  thought !  the  while       285 
Which  made  me  both  to  weep  and  smile  — 
I  sometimes  deemed  that  it  might  be 
My  brother's  soul  come  down  to  me  ; 
But  then  at  last  away  it  flew. 

And  then  'twas  mortal  —  well  I  knew,  290 

For  he  would  never  thus  have  flown  — 
And  left  me  twice  so  doubly  lone,  — 
Lone — as  the  corse  within  its  shroud, 
Lone  —  as  a  solitary  cloud, 

A  single  cloud  on  a  sunny  day,  295 

While  all  the  rest  of  heaven  is  clear, 
A  frown  upon  the  atmosphere. 
That  hath  no  business  to  appear 

When  skies  are  blue  and  earth  is  gay. 


BYRON  227 


XI 


A  kind  of  change  came  in  my  fate,  300 

My  keepers  grew  compassionate  ; 

I  know  not  what  had  made  them  so, 

They  were  inured  to  sights  of  woe, 

But  so  it  was  :  —  my  broken  chain 

With  links  unfastened  did  remain,  305 

And  it  was  liberty  to  stride 

Along  my  cell  from  side  to  side, 

And  up  and  down,  and  then  athwart. 

And  tread  it  over  every  part ; 

And  round  the  pillars  one  by  one,  310 

Returning  where  my  walk  begun, 

Avoiding  only,  as  I  trod, 

My  brothers'  graves  without  a  sod  ; 

For  if  I  thought  with  heedless  tread 

My  step  profaned  their  lowly  bed,  315 

My  breath  came  gaspingly  and  thick. 

And  my  crush'd  heart  felt  blind  and  sick. 


XII 


I  made  a  footing  in  the  wall, 

It  was  not  therefrom  to  escape, 
For  I  had  buried  one  and  all,  320 

Who  loved  me  in  a  human  shape  ; 
And  the  whole  earth  would  henceforth  be 
A  wider  prison  unto  me  : 
No  child  —  no  sire  —  no  kin  had  I, 
No  partner  in  my  misery  ;  325 

I  thought  of  this,  and  I  was  glad, 
For  thought  of  them  had  made  me  mad ; 
But  I  was  curious  to  ascend 
To  my  barred  windows,  and  to  bend 


228  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

Once  more,  upon  the  mountains  high,  a^o 

The  quiet  of  a  loving  eye. 


XIII 

I  saw  them  —  and  they  were  the  same, 

They  were  not  changed  Hke  me  in  frame  j 

I  saw  their  thousand  years  of  snow 

On  high  —  their  wide  long  lake  below,  335 

And  the  blue  Rhone  in  fullest  flow  ; 

I  heard  the  torrents  leap  and  gush 

O'er  channelled  rock  and  broken  bush  ; 

I  saw  the  white-walled  distant  town, 

And  whiter  sails  go  skimming  down  ;  340 

And  then  there  was  a  little  isle, 

Which  in  my  very  face  did  smile, 

The  only  one  in  view  ; 
A  small  green  isle,  it  seemed  no  more, 
Scarce  broader  than  my  dungeon  floor,  345 

But  in  it  there  were  three  tall  trees, 
And  o'er  it  blew  the  mountain  breeze, 
And  by  it  there  were  waters  flowing. 
And  on  it  there  were  flowers  growing. 

Of  gentle  breath  and  hue.  350 

The  fish  swam  by  the  castle  wall. 
And  they  seemed  joyous  each  and  all ; 
The  eagle  rode  the  rising  blast, 
Methought  he  never  flew  so  fast 
As  then  to  me  he   seemed  to  fly  ;  355 

And  then  new  tears  came  in  my  eye. 
And  I  felt  troubled  —  and  -would  fain 
I  had  not  left  my  recent  chain  ; 
And  when  I  did  descend  again. 

The  darkness  of  my  dim  abode  360 

Fell  on  me  as  a  heavy  load  ; 


BYRON  229 

It  was  as  is  a  new-dug  grave, 

Closing  o'er  one  we  sought  to  save, — 

And  yet  my  glance,  too  much  opprest, 

Had  almost  need  of  such  a  rest.  365 


XIV 

It  might  be  months,  or  years,  or  days  — 

I  kept  no  count  —  I  took  no  note  — 
I  had  no  hope  my  eyes  to  raise. 

And  clear  them  of  their  dreary  mote  ; 
At  last  men  came  to  set  me  free  ;  370 

I  asked  not  why,  and  recked  not  where ; 
It  was  at  length  the  same  to  me, 
Fettered  or  fetterless  to  be, 

I  learned  to  love  despair. 
And  thus  when  they  appeared  at  last,  375 

And  all  my  bonds  aside  were  cast, 
These  heavy  walls  to  me  had  grown 
A  hermitage —  and  all  my  own  ! 
And  half  I  felt  as  they  were  come 
To  tear  me  from  a  second  home  :  380 

With  spiders  I  had  friendship  made. 
And  watch 'd  them  in  their  sullen  trade, 
Had  seen  the  mice  by  moonlight  play. 
And  why  should  I  feel  less  than  they? 
We  were  all  inmates  of  one  place,  385 

And  I,  the  monarch  of  each  race. 
Had  power  to  kill  —  yet,  strange  to  tell ! 
In  quiet  we  had  learn 'd  to  dwell ; 
My  very  chains  and  I  grew  friends, 
So  much  a  long  communion  tends  390 

To  make  us  what  we  are  :  —  even  I 
Regained  my  freedom  with  a  sigh. 


230  THE    ROMANriC   PERIOD 

PERCY   BYSSHE    SHELLEY 

1792-1822 
ODE   TO    THE   WEST   WIND 


O  WILD  West  Wind,  thou  breath  of  Autumn's  being, 
Thou,  from  whose  unseen  presence  the  leaves  dead 
Are  driven,  hke  ghosts  from  an  enchanter  fleeing, 

Yellow,  and  black,  and  pale,  and  hectic  red, 
Pestilence-stricken  multitudes  :  O  thou, 
Who  chariotest  to  their  dark  wintry  bed 

The  winged  seeds,  where  they  lie  cold  and  low, 
Each  like  a  corpse  within  its  grave,  until 
Thine  azure  sister  of  the  spring  shall  blow 

Her  clarion  o'er  the  dreaming  earth,  and  fill 
(Driving  sweet  buds  like  fiocks  to  feed  in  air) 
With  living  hues  and  odors  plain  and  hill : 

Wild  Spirit,  which  art  moving  everywhere  ; 
Destroyer  and  preserver  ;  hear,  oh,  hear  ! 


Thou  on  whose  stream,  'mid  the  steep  sky's  commotion,    15 
Loose  clouds  like  earth's  decaying  leaves  are  shed, 
Shook  from  the  tangled  boughs  of  Heaven  and  Ocean, 

Angels  of  rain  and  lightning :  there  are  spread 

On  the  blue  surface  of  thine  airy  surge, 

Like  the  bright  hair  uplifted  from  the  head  20 


SHELLEY  231 

Of  some  fierce  Maenad,  even  from  the  dim  verge 

Of  the  horizon  to  the  zenith's  height, 

The  locks  of  the  approaching  storm.     Thou  dirge 

Of  the  dying  year,  to  which  this  closing  night 

Will  be  the  dome  of  a  vast  sepulchre,  25 

Vaulted  with  all  thy  congregated  might 

Of  vapors,  from  whose  solid  atmosphere 

Black  rain,  and  fire,  and  hail,  will  burst :  oh  hear  ! 


Ill 

Thou  who  didst  waken  from  his  summer  dreams 

The  blue  Mediterranean,  where  he  lay,  30 

Lulled  by  the  coil  of  his  crystalline  streams. 

Beside  a  pumice  isle  in  Baiae's  bay. 
And  saw  in  sleep  old  palaces  and  towers 
Quivering  within  the  wave's  intenser  day. 

All  overgrown  with  azure  moss  and  flowers  35 

So  sweet,  the  sense  faints  picturing  them  !     Thou 
For  whose  path  the  Atlantic's  level  powers 

Cleave  themselves  into  chasms,  while  far  below 

The  sea-blooms  and  the  oozy  woods  which  wear 

The  sapless  foliage  of  the  ocean,  know  40 

Thy  voice,  and  suddenly  grow  gray  with  fear, 
And  tremble  and  despoil  themselves  :  oh,  hear  ! 


IV 

If  I  were  a  dead  leaf  thou  mightest  bear ; 

If  I  were  a  swift  cloud  to  fly  with  thcc  ; 

A  wave  to  pant  beneath  thy  power,  and  share  45 


232  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

The  impulse  of  thy  strength,  only  less  free 
Than  thou,  O  uncontrollable  !  if  even 
I  were  as  in  my  boyhood,  and  could  be 

The  comrade  of  thy  wanderings  over  heaven, 

As  then,  when  to  outstrip  thy  skyey  speed  cq 

Scarce  seemed  a  vision  ;  I  would  ne'er  have  striven 

As  thus  with  thee  in  prayer  in  my  sore  need. 
Oh  !  lift  me  as  a  wave,  a  leaf,  a  cloud ! 
I  fall  upon  the  thorns  of  Hfe  !     I  bleed  ! 

A  heavy  weight  of  hours  has  chained  and  bowed  55 

One  too  like  thee  :  tameless,  and  swift,  and  proud. 


Make  me  thy  lyre,  even  as  the  forest  is ; 
What  if  my  leaves  are  falling  like  its  own  ! 
The  tumult  of  thy  mighty  harmonies 

Will  take  from  both  a  deep,  autumnal  tone,  60 

Sweet  though  in  sadness.     Be  thou,  Spirit  fierce, 
My  spirit !     Be  thou  me,  impetuous  one  ! 

Drive  my  dead  thoughts  over  the  universe 

Like  withered  leaves  to  quicken  a  new  birth ! 

And,  by  the  incantation  of  this  verse,  65 

Scatter,  as  from  an  unextinguished  hearth 
Ashes  and  sparks,  my  words  among  mankind ! 
Be  through  my  lips  to  unwakened  earth 


The  trumpet  of  a  prophecy  !     O  Wind, 

If  Winter  comes,  can  Spring  be  far  behind  ? 


70 


SHELLEY  233 

TO   A   SKYLARK 

Hail  to  thee,  blithe  Spirit ! 

Bird  thou  never  wert, 
That  from  Heaven,  or  near  it, 

Pourest  thy  full  heart 
In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art.  5 

Higher  still  and  higher 

From  the  earth  thou  springest 
Like  a  cloud  of  fire  ; 

The  blue  deep  thou  wingest. 
And  singing  still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest.  10 

In  the  golden  lightning 

Of  the  sunken  sun, 
O'er  which  clouds  are  bright'ning, 

Thou  dost  float  and  run  ; 
Like  an  unbodied  joy  whose  race  is  just  begun.  15 

The  pale  purple  even 

Melts  around  thy  flight ; 
Like  a  star  of  Heaven, 

In  the  broad  daylight 
Thou  art  unseen,  but  yet  I  hear  thy  shrill  delight,  20 

Keen  as  are  the  arrows 

Of  that  silver  sphere 
Whose  intense  lamp  narrows 

In  the  white  dawn  clear 
Until  we  hardly  see  —  we  feel,  that  it  is  there.  25 

Ail  the  earth  and  air 

With  thy  voice  is  loud, 
As,  when  night  is  bare. 

From  one  lonely  cloud 
The  moon  rains  out  her  beams,  and  Heaven  is  overflowed.       30 


2  34  "^^^    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

What  thou  art  we  know  not ; 

What  is  most  Uke  thee  ? 
From  rainbow  clouds  there  flow  not 
Drops  so  bright  to  see 
As  from  thy  presence  showers  a  rain  of  melody.  35 

Like  a  poet  hidden 

In  the  light  of  thought, 
Singing  hymns  unbidden, 
Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy  with  hopes  and  fears  it  heeded  not :  40 

Like  a  high-born  maiden 

In  a  palace  tower, 
Soothing  her  love-laden 

Soul  in  secret  hour 
With  music  sweet  as  love,  which  overflows  her  bower :  45 

Like  a  glow-worm  golden 

In  a  dell  of  dew. 
Scattering  unbeholden 

Its  aerial  hue 
Among  the  flowers  and  grass,  which  screen  it  from  the  view :   50 

Like  a  rose  embowered 

In  its  own  green  leaves, 
By  warm  winds  deflowered. 
Till  the  scent  it  gives 
Makes  faint  with  too  much  sweet  these  heavy-winged  thieves.  55 

Sound  of  vernal  showers 

On  the  twinkling  grass. 
Rain-awakened  flowers, 

All  that  ever  was, 
Joyous,  and  clear,  and  fresh,  thy  music  doth  surpass  :  60 

Teach  us,  Sprite  or  Bird, 

What  sweet  thoughts  are  thine  ; 


SHELLEY  235 

I  have  never  heard 
Praise  of  love  or  wine 
That  panted  forth  a  flood  of  rapture  so  divine.  65 

Chorus  Hymeneal, 

Or  triumphal  chant, 
Matched  with  thine  would  be  all 
But  an  empty  vaunt, 
A  thing  wherein  we  feel  there  is  some  hidden  want.  70 

What  objects  are  the  fountains 

Of  thy  happy  strain  ? 
What  fields,  or  waves,  or  mountains  ? 

What  shapes  of  sky  or  plain  ? 
What  love  of  thine  own  kind  ?  what  ignorance  of  pain  ?  75 

With  thy  clear  keen  joyance, 

Languor  cannot  be : 
Shadow  of  annoyance 

Never  came  near  thee  : 
Thou  lovest  —  but  ne'er  knew  love's  sad  satiety.  80 

Waking  or  asleep, 

Thou  of  death  must  deem 
Things  more  true  and  deep 

Than  we  mortals  dream, 
Or  how  could  thy  notes  flow  in  such  a  crystal  stream  ?  85 

We  look  before  and  after, 

And  pine  for  what  is  not : 
Our  sinceresi  laughter 

With  some  pain  is  fraught ; 
Our  sweetest  songs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought.  90 

Yet,  if  we  could  scorn 

Hate,  and  pride,  and  fear  ; 


236  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

If  we  were  things  born 
Not  to  shed  a  tear, 
I  know  not  how  thy  joy  we  ever  should  come  near.  95 

Better  than  all  measures 

Of  delightful  sound, 
Better  than  all  treasures 

That  in  books  are  found, 
Thy  skill  to  poet  were,  thou  scorner  of  the  ground  1  100 

Teach  me  half  the  gladness 

That  thy  brain  must  know, 
Such  harmonious  madness 
From  my  lips  would  flow 
The  world  should  listen  then  —  as  I  am  listening  now.  105 

ADONAIS 


I  WEEP  for  Adonais  —  he  is  dead  ! 
Oh,  weep  for  Adonais  !  though  our  tears 
Thaw  not  the  frost  which  binds  so  dear  a  head ! 
And  thou,  sad  Hour,  selected  from  all  years 
To  mourn  our  loss,  rouse  thy  obscure  compeers. 
And  teach  them  thine  own  sorrow  !  Say  :  '  With  me 
Died  Adonais  ;  till  the  Future  dares 
Forget  the  Past,  his  fate  and  fame  shall  be 
An  echo  and  a  light  unto  eternity ! ' 

II 

Where  wert  thou,  mighty  Mother,  when  he  lay 
When  thy  Son  lay,  pierced  by  the  shaft  which  flies 
In  darkness  ?  where  was  lorn  Urania 
When  Adonais  died  ?     With  veiled  eyes, 
'Mid  listening  Echoes,  in  her  Paradise 


SHELLEY  237 

She  sate,  while  one,  with  soft  enamoured  breath,  15 

Rekindled  all  the  fading  melodies, 
With  which,  like  flowers  that  mock  the  corse  beneath, 
He  had  adorned  and  hid  the  coming  bulk  of  death. 


Oh,  weep  for  Adonais  —  he  is  dead  ! 

Wake,  melancholy  Mother,  wake  and  weep !  20 

Yet  wherefore  ?     Quench  within  their  burning  bed 
Thy  fiery  tears,  and  let  thy  loud  heart  keep 
Like  his,  a  mute  and  uncomplaining  sleep  ; 
For  he  is  gone,  where  all  things  wise  and  fair 
Descend  :  —  oh,  dream  not  that  the  amorous  Deep  25 

Will  yet  restore  him  to  the  vital  air ; 
Death  feeds  on  his  mute  voice,  and  laughs  at  our  despair. 

IV 

Most  musical  of  mourners,  weep  again  ! 
Lament  anew,  Urania  !  —  He  died. 

Who  was  the  Sire  of  an  immortal  strain,  30 

Blind,  old,  and  lonely,  when  his  country's  pride 
The  priest,  the  slave,  and  the  liberticide 
Trampled  and  mocked  with  many  a  loathed  rite 
Of  lust  and  blood ;  he  went,  unterrified, 
Into  the  gulf  of  death  ;  but  his  clear  Sprite  35 

Yet  reigns  o'er  earth,  the  third  among  the  sons  of  light. 


Most  musical  of  mourners,  weep  anew  ! 

Not  all  to  that  bright  station  dared  to  climb ; 

And  happier  they  their  happiness  who  knew, 

Whose  tapers  yet  burn  through  that  night  of  time  40 

In  which  suns  perished  ;  others  more  sublime, 

Struck  by  the  envious  wrath  of  man  or  God, 


238  THE    ROMANTIC  PERIOD 

Have  sunk,  extinct  in  their  refulgent  prime  ; 
And  some  yet  live,  treading  the  thorny  road, 
Which  leads,  through  toil  and  hate,  to  Fame's  serene  abode.    45 


But  now,  thy  youngest,  dearest  one,  has  perished. 
The  nursling  of  thy  widowhood,  who  grew, 
Like  a  pale  flower  by  some  sad  maiden  cherished, 
And  fed  with"  true  love  tears  instead  of  dew ; 
Most  musical  of  mourners,  weep  anew  !  50 

Thy  extreme  hope,  the  loveliest  and  the  last. 
The  bloom,  whose  petals,  nipt  before  they  blew, 
Died  on  the  promise  of  the  fruit,  is  waste ; 
The  broken  lily  dies  —  the  storm  is  overpast. 

VII 

To  that  high  Capital,  where  kingly  Death  55 

Keeps  his  pale  court  in  beauty  and  decay, 
He  came  ;  and  bought,  with  price  of  purest  breath, 
A  grave  among  the  eternal.  —  Come  away  ! 
Haste,  while  the  vault  of  blue  Italian  day 
Is  yet  his  fitting  charnel-roof !  while  still  60 

He  lies,  as  if  in  dewy  sleep  he  lay  ; 
Awake  him  not !  surely  he  takes  his  fill 
Of  deep  and  liquid  rest,  forgetful  of  all  ill. 

VIII 

He  will  awake  no  more,  oh,  never  more  !  — 

Within  the  twilight  chamber  spreads  apace,  65 

The  shadow  of  white  Death,  and  at  the  door 

Invisible  Corruption  waits  to  trace 

His  extreme  way  to  her  dim  dwelling-place  ; 

The  eternal  Hunger  sits,  but  pity  and  awe 

Soothe  her  pale  rage,  nor  dares  she  to  deface  70 


SHELLEY  239 

So  fair  a  prey,  till  darkness  and  the  law 
Of  change  shall  o'er  his  sleep  the  mortal  curtain  draw. 

IX 

Oh,  weep  for  Adonais  !  —  The  quick  Dreams, 
The  passion-winged  Ministers  of  thought, 
Who  were  his  flocks,  whom  near  the  living  streams  75 

Of  his  young  spirit  he  fed,  and  whom  he  taught 
The  love  which  was  its  music,  wander  not,  — 
Wander  no  more,  from  kindling  brain  to  brain, 
But  droop  there,  whence  they  sprung ;  and  mourn  their  lot 
Round  the  cold  heart,  where,  after  their  sweet  pain,  80 

They  ne'er  will  gather  strength,  nor  find  a  home  again. 


And  one  with  trembling  hand  clasps  his  cold  head. 
And  fans  him  with  her  moonlight  wings,  and  cries  ; 
'  Our  love,  our  hope,  our  sorrow,  is  not  dead  ; 
See,  on  the  silken  fringe  of  his  faint  eyes,  85 

Like  dew  upon  a  sleeping  flower,  there  lies 
A  tear  some  Dream  hath  loosened  from  his  brain.' 
Lost  Angel  of  a  ruined  Paradise  ! 
She  knew  not  'twas  her  own  ;  as  with  no  stain 
She  faded,  like  a  cloud  which  had  outwept  its  rain.  90 

XI 

One  from  a  lucid  urn  of  starry  dew 
Washed  his  light  limbs,  as  if  embalming  them  ; 
Another  clipped  her  profuse  locks,  and  threw 
The  wreath  upon  him,  like  an  anadem. 

Which  frozen  tears  instead  of  pearls  begem  ;  95 

Another  in  her  wilful  grief  would  break 
Her  bow  and  winged  reeds,  as  if  to  stem 
A  greater  loss  with  one  which  was  more  weak  ; 
And  (lull  the  barbed  fire  airainst  his  frozen  cheek. 


240  THE    ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

XII 

Another  Splendor  on  his  mouth  ah't,  loo 

That  mouth  whence  it  was  wont  to  draw  the  breath 
Which  gave  it  strength  to  pierce  the  guarded  wit, 
And  pass  into  the  panting  heart  beneath 
With  lightning  and  with  music :  the  damp  death 
Quenched  its  caress  upon  its  icy  lips  ;  105 

And,  as  a  dying  meteor  stains  a  wreath 
Of  moonlight  vapor,  which  the  cold  night  clips, 
It  flushed  through  his  pale  limbs,  and  passed  to  its  eclipse. 


And  others  came — Desires  and  Adorations, 
Winged  Persuasions  and  veiled  Destinies,  no 

Splendors,  and  Glooms,  and  glimmering  Incarnations 
Of  hopes  and  fears,  and  twilight  Phantasies ; 
And  Sorrow,  with  her  family  of  Sighs, 
And  Pleasure,  blind  with  tears,  led  by  the  gleam 
Of  her  own  dying  smile  instead  of  eyes,  115 

Came  in  slow  pomp;  —  the  moving  pomp  might  seem 
Like  pageantry  of  mist  on  an  autumnal  stream. 


All  he  had  loved,  and  moulded  into  thought 
From  shape,  and  hue,  and  odor,  and  sweet  sound, 
Lamented  Adonais.     Morning  sought  120 

Her  eastern  w^atch  tower,  and  her  hair  unbound, 
Wet  with  the  tears  which  should  adorn  the  ground. 
Dimmed  the  aerial  eyes  that  kindle  day  ; 
Afar  the  melancholy  thunder  moaned. 

Pale  Ocean  in  unquiet  slumber  lay,  125 

And  the  wild  winds  flew  round,  sobbing  in  their  dismay. 


SHELLEY  .  241 

XV 

Lost  Echo  sits  amid  the  voiceless  mountains, 
And  feeds  her  grief  with  his  remembered  lay, 
And  will  no  more  reply  to  winds  or  fountains, 
Or  amorous  birds  perched  on  the  young  green  spray,        130 
Or  herdsman's  horn,  or  bell  at  closing  day  ; 
Since  she  can  mimic  not  his  lips,  more  dear 
Than  those  for  whose  disdain  she  pined  away 
Into  a  shadow  of  all  sounds  :  —  a  drear 
Murmur,  between  their  songs,  is  all  the  woodmen  hear.        135 


XVI 

Grief  made  the  young  Spring  wild,  and  she  threw  down 
Her  kindling  buds,  as  if  she  Autumn  were. 
Or  they  dead  leaves  ;  since  her  delight  is  flown, 
For  whom  should  she  have  waked  the  sullen  year? 
To  Phoebus  was  not  Hyacinth  so  dear,  i^o 

Nor  to  himself  Narcissus,  as  to  both 
Thou  Adonais  :  wan  they  stand  and  sere 
Amid  the  faint  companions  of  their  youth. 
With  dew  all  turned  to  tears  ;  odor,  to  sighing  ruth. 


Thy  spirit's  sister,  the  lorn  nightingale,  145 

Mourns  not  her  mate  with  such  melodious  pain  ; 
Not  so  the  eagle,  who  like  thee  could  scale 
Heaven,  and  could  nourish  in  the  sun's  domain 
Her  mighty  youth  with  morning,  doth  complain, 
Soaring  and  screaming  round  her  empty  nest,  150 

As  Albion  wails  for  thee  :  the  curse  of  Cain 
Light  on  his  head  who  pierced  thy  innocent  breast, 
And  scared  the  angel  soul  that  was  its  earthly  guest ! 

ENU.    POEMS  — •  16 


242  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 


Ah  woe  is  me  !     Winter  is  come  and  gone, 
But  grief  returns  with  the  revolving  year  ;  1^5 

The  airs  and  streams  renew  their  joyous  tone  ; 
The  ants,  the  bees,  the  swallows  reappear ; 
Fresh  leaves  and  flowers  deck  the  dead  Seasons'  bier  :; 
The  amorous  birds  now  pair  in  every  brake, 
And  build  their  mossy  homes  in  field  and  brere  ;  160 

And  the  green  lizard,  and  the  golden  snake. 
Like  unimprisoned  flames,  out  of  their  trance  awake. 


Through  wood  and  stream  and  field  and  hill  and  Ocean 
A  quickening  life  from  the  Earth's  heart  has  burst. 
As  it  has  ever  done,  with  change  and  motion,  165 

From  the  great  morning  of  the  world  when  first 
God  dawned  on  Chaos  ;  in  its  stream  immersed. 
The  lamps  of  Heaven  flash  with  a  softer  light ; 
All  baser  things  pant  with  life's  sacred  thirst; 
Diffuse  themselves,  and  spend  in  love's  delight  170 

The  beauty  and  the  joy  of  their  renewed  might. 


The  leprous  corpse  touched  by  this  spirit  tender, 
Exhales  itself  in  flowers  of  gentle  breath  ; 
Like  incarnations  of  the  stars,  when  splendor 
Is  changed  to  fragrance,  they  illumine  death  17- 

And  mock  the  merry  worm  that  wakes  beneath  ; 
Nought  we  know,  dies.     Shall  that  alone  which  knows 
Be  as  a  sword  consumed  before  the  sheath 
By  sightless  lightning?  —  the  intense  atom  glows 
A  moment,  then  is  quenched  in  a  most  cold  repose.  iSo 


SHELLEY  243 

XXI 

Alas  !  that  all  we  loved  of  him  should  be, 
But  for  our  grief,  as  if  it  had  not  been, 
And  grief  itself  be  mortal !     Woe  is  me  ! 
Whence  are  we,  and  why  are  we  ?  of  what  scene 
The  actors  or  spectators  ?     Great  and  mean  185 

Meet  massed  in  death,  who  lends  what  life  must  borrow. 
As  long  as  skies  are  blue,  and  fields  are  green. 
Evening  must  usher  night,  night  urge  the  morrow. 
Month  follow  month  with  woe,  and  year  wake  year  to  sorrow. 


XXII 

He  will  awake  no  more,  oh,  never  more  !  190 

'  Wake  thou,'  cried  Misery,  '  childless  Mother,  rise 
Out  of  thy  sleep,  and  slake,  in  thy  heart's  core, 
A  wound  more  fierce  than  his  with  tears  and  sighs.' 
And  all  the  Dreams  that  watched  Urania's  eyes. 
And  all  the  Echoes  whom  their  sister's  song  195 

Had  held  in  holy  silence,  cried  :  '  Arise  !  ' 
Swift  as  a  Thought  by  the  snake  Memory  stung, 
From  her  ambrosial  rest  the  fading  Splendor  sprung. 


XXIII 

She  rose  like  an  autumnal  Night,  that  springs 
Out  of  the  East,  and  follows  wild  and  drear 
The  golden  Day,  which,  on  eternal  wings, 
Even  as  a  ghost  abandoning  a  bier, 
Has  left  the  Earth  a  corpse.     Sorrow  and  fear 
So  struck,  so  roused,  so  rapt  Urania  ; 
So  saddened  round  her  like  an  atmosphere 
Of  stormy  mist;  so  swept  her  on  her  way 
Even  to  the  mournful  place  where  Adonais  lay. 


244  THE   ROMANTIC   FERIOD 


Out  of  her  secret  Paradise  she  sped, 
Through  camps  and  cities  rough  with  stone,  and  steel, 
And  human  hearts,  which  to  her  aery  tread  210 

Yielding  not,  wounded  the  invisible 
Palms  of  her  tender  feet  where'er  they  fell : 
And  barbed  tongues,  and  thoughts  more  sharp  than  they 
Rent  the  soft  Form  they  never  could  repel. 
Whose  sacred  blood,  like  the  young  tears  of  May,  215 

Paved  with  eternal  flowers  that  undeserving  way. 


XXV 

In  the  death-chamber  for  a  moment  Death, 
Shamed  by  the  presence  of  that  living  Might, 
Blushed  to  annihilation,  and  the  breath 

Revisited  those  lips,  and  life's  pale  light  220 

Flashed  through  those  limbs,  so  late  her  dear  delight. 
'  Leave  me  not  wild  and  drear  and  comfortless. 
As  silent  lightning  leaves  the  starless  night ! 
Leave  me  not!'  cried  Urania:  her  distress 
Roused  Death ;  Death  rose  and  smiled,  and  met  her  vain  caress.  225 


XXVI 

'  Stay  yet  awhile  !  speak  to  me  once  again  ; 
Kiss  me,  so  long  but  as  a  kiss  may  live  ; 
And  in  my  heartless  breast  and  burning  brain 
That  word,  that  kiss  shall  all  thoughts  else  survive, 
With  food  of  saddest  memory  kept  alive,  230 

Now  thou  art  dead,  as  if  it  were  a  part 
Of  thee,  my  Adonais  !     I  would  give 
All  that  I  am  to  be  as  thou  now  art! 
But  I  am  chained  to  Time,  and  cannot  thence  depart! 


SHELLEY  245 

XXVII 

'O  gentle  child,  beautiful  as  thou  wert,  235 

Why  didst  thou  leave  the  trodden  paths  of  men 
Too  soon,  and  with  weak  hands  though  mighty  heart 
Dare  the  unpastured  dragon  in  his  den? 
Defenceless  as  thou  wert,  oh,  where  was  then 
Wisdom  the  mirrored  shield,  or  scorn  the  spear  ?  240 

Or  hadst  thou  waited  the  full  cycle,  w^hen 
Thy  spirit  should  have  filled  its  crescent  sphere. 
The  monsters  of  life's  waste  had  fled  from  thee  like  deer. 


XXVIII 

'The  herded  wolves,  bold  only  to  pursue; 
The  obscene  ravens,  clamorous  o'er  the  dead;  245 

The  vultures,  to  the  conqueror's  banner  true, 
W^ho  feed  where  Desolation  first  has  fed, 
And  whose  wings  rain  contagion;  —  how  they  fled, 
Wlien  like  Apollo  from  his  golden  bow, 
The  Pythian  of  the  age  one  arrow  sped  250 

And  smiled!  —  The  spoilers  tempt  no  second  blow, 
They  fawn  on  the  proud  feet  that  spurn  them  lying  low. 


XXIX 

'The  sun  comes  forth,  and  many  reptiles  spawn; 
He  sets,  and  each  ephemeral  insect  then 
Is  gathered  into  death  without  a  dawn,  255 

And  the  immortal  stars  awake  again  ; 
So  it  is  in  the  world  of  living  men  : 
A  godlike  mind  soars  forth,  in  its  delight 
Making  earth  bare  and  veiling  heaven,  and  when 
It  sinks,  the  swarms  that  dimmed  or  shared  its  light  260 

Leave  to  its  kindred  lamps  the  spirit's  awful  night.  ' 


246  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XXX 

Thus  ceased  she  :  and  the  mountain  shepherds  came, 
Their  garlands  sere,  their  magic  mantles  rent ; 
The  Pilgrim  of  Eternity,  whose  fame 

Over  his  living  head  like  Heaven  is  bent,  265 

An  early  but  enduring  monument. 
Came,  veiling  all  the  lightnings  of  his  song 
In  sorrow  ;  from  her  wilds  lerne  sent 
The  sweetest  lyrist  of  her  saddest  wrong, 
And  love  taught  grief  to  fall  like  music  from  his  tongue.       270 


XXXI 

'Midst  others  of  less  note,  came  one  frail  form, 
A  phantom  among  men  ;  companionless 
As  the  last  cloud  of  an  expiring  storm 
Whose  thunder  is  its  knell ;  he,  as  I  guess, 
Had  gazed  on  Nature's  naked  loveliness,  275 

Actaeon-like,  and  now  he  fled  astray 
With  feeble  steps  o'er  the  world's  wilderness, 
And  his  own  thoughts,  along  that  rugged  way. 
Pursued,  like  raging  hounds,  their  father  and  their  prey. 


A  pard-like  spirit  beautiful  and  swift  —  2S0 

A  love  in  desolation  masked  ;  —  a  Power 
Girt  round  with  weakness  ;  —  it  can  scarce  uplift 
The  weight  of  the  superincumbent  hour ; 
It  is  a  dying  lamp,  a  falling  shower, 

A  breaking  billow  ;  —  even  whilst  we  speak  285 

Is  it  not  broken  ?     On  the  withering  flower 
The  killing  sun  smiles  brightly :  on  a  cheek 
The  life  can  burn  in  blood,  even  while  the  heart  may  break. 


SHELLEY  247 

XXXIII 

His  head  was  bound  with  pansies  overblown, 
And  faded  violets,  white,  and  pied,  and  blue;  290 

And  a  light  spear  topped  with  a  cypress  cone, 
Round  whose  rude  shaft  dark  ivy-tresses  grew 
Yet  dripping  with  the  forest's  noonday  dew. 
Vibrated,  as  the  ever-beating  heart 

Shook  the  weak  hand  that  grasped  it ;  of  that  crew  29-, 

He  came  the  last,  neglected  and  apart ; 
A  herd-abandoned  deer  struck  by  the  hunter's  dart. 

XXXIV 

All  stood  aloof,  and  at  his  partial  moan 
Smiled  through  their  tears ;  well  knew  that  gentle  band 
Who  in  another's  fate  now  wept  his  own,  300 

As  in  the  accents  of  an  unknown  land, 
He  sang  new  sorrow ;  sad  Urania  scanned 
The  stranger's  mien,  and  murmured  :  '  Who  art  thou  ? 
He  answered  not,  but  with  a  sudden  hand 
Made  bare  his  branded  and  ensanguined  brow,  305 

Which  was  like  Cain's  or  Christ's  —  oh,  that  it  should  be  so  ! 


XXXV 

What  softer  voice  is  hvished  over  the  dead  ? 
Athwart  what  brow  is  that  dark  mantle  thrown  ? 
What  form  leans  sadly  o'er  the  white  death-bed. 
In  mockery  of  monumental  stone,  310 

The  heavy  heart  heaving  without  a  moan  ? 
If  it  be  he,  who,  gentlest  of  the  wise, 
Taught,  soothed,  loved,  honored  the  departed  one, 
Let  me  not  vex,  with  'inharmonious  sighs. 
The  silence  of  that  heart's  accepted  sacrifice.  315 


248  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XXXVI 

Our  Adonais  has  drunk  poison  —  oh  ! 
What  deaf  and  viperous  murderer  could  crown 
Life's  early  cup  with  such  a  draught  of  woe  ? 
The  nameless  worm  would  now  itself  disown  : 
It  felt,  yet  could  escape  the  magic  tone  ,20 

Whose  prelude  held  all  envy,  hate,  and  wrong, 
But  what  was  howling  in  one  breast  alone. 
Silent  with  expectation  of  the  song, 
Whose  master's  hand  is  cold,  whose  silver  lyre  unstrung. 


XXXVII 

Live  thou,  whose  infamy  is  not  thy  fame !  325 

Live  !    fear  no  heavier  chastisement  from  me, 
Thou  noteless  blot  on  a  remembered  name  ! 
But  be  thyself,  and  know  thyself  to  be  ! 
And  ever  at  thy  season  be  thou  free 

To  spill  the  venom  when  thy  fangs  o'erflow  :  330 

Remorse  and  Self-contempt  shall  cling  to  thee  ; 
Hot  Shame  shall  burn  upon  thy  secret  brow, 
And  hke  a  beaten  hound  tremble  thou  shalt  —  as  now. 


XXXVIII 

Nor  let  us  weep  that  our  delight  is  fled 
Far  from  these  carrion-kites  that  scream  below  ;  33^ 

He  wakes  or  sleeps  with  the  enduring  dead  ; 
Thou  canst  not  soar  where  he  is  sitting  now.  — 
Dust  to  the  dust !  but  the  pure  spirit  shall  flow 
Back  to  the  burning  fountain  whence  it  came, 
A  portion  of  the  Eternal,  which  must  glow  340 

Through  time  and  change,  unquenchably  the  same. 
Whilst  thy  cold  embers  choke  the  sordid  hearth  of  shame. 


SHELLEY  249 

XXXIX 

Peace,  peace !  he  is  not  dead,  he  doth  not  sleep  — 
He  hath  awakened  from  the  dream  of  Hfe  — 
'Tis  we,  who  lost  in  stormy  visions,  keep  345 

With  phantoms  an  unprofitable  strife, 
And  in  mad  trance  strike  with  our  spirit's  knife 
Invulnerable  nothings.  —  We  decay- 
Like  corpses  in  a  charnel ;  fear  and  grief 
Convulse  us  and  consume  us  day  by  day,  350 

And  cold  hopes  swarm  like  worms  within  our  living  clay. 


XL 

He  has  outsoared  the  shadow  of  our  night ; 
Envy  and  calumny  and  hate  and  pain, 
And  that  unrest  which  men  miscall  delight, 
Can  touch  him  not  and  torture  not  again  ;  355 

From  the  contagion  of  the  world's  slow  stain 
He  is  secure,  and  now  can  never  mourn 
A  heart  grown  cold,  a  head  grown  grey  in  vain  ; 
Nor,  when  the  spirit's  self  has  ceased  to  burn, 
With  sparkless  ashes  load  an  unlamented  urn.  360 


XLI 

He  lives,  he  wakes  —  'tis  Death  is  dead,  not  he ; 
Mourn  not  for  Adonais.  —  Thou  young  Dawn, 
Turn  all  thy  dew  to  splendor,  for  from  thee 
The  spirit  thou  lamentest  is  not  gone  ; 

Ye  caverns  and  ye  forests,  cease  to  moan  !  365 

Cease,  ye  faint  flowers  and  fountains,  and  thou  Air, 
Which  like  a  mourning  veil  thy  scarf  hadst  thrown 
O'er  the  abandoned  Earth,  now  leave  it  bare 
Even  to  the  joyous  stars  which  smile  on  its  despair  ! 


250  THE   ROMAN  lie   PERIOD 

XLII 

He  is  made  one  with  Nature  :    there  is  heard  370 

His  voice  in  all  her  music,  from  the  moan 
Of  thunder  to  the  song  of  night's  sweet  bird  ; 
He  is  a  presence  to  be  felt  and  known 
In  darkness  and  in  light,  from  herb  and  stone, 
Spreading  itself  where'er  that  Power  may  move  375 

Which  has  withdrawn  his  being  to  its  own  ; 
Which  wields  the  world  with  never-wearied  love, 
Sustains  it  from  beneath,  and  kindles  it  above. 


XLIII 

He  is  a  portion  of  the  loveliness  , 

Which  once  he  made  more  lovely  :  he  doth  bear  380 

His  part,  while  the  one  Spirit's  plastic  stress 
Sweeps  through  the  dull  dense  world,  compelling  there 
All  new  successions  to  the  forms  they  wear  ; 
Torturing  th'  unwilling  dross  that  checks  its  flight 
To  its  own  likeness,  as  each  mass  may  bear ;  385 

And  bursting  in  its  beauty  and  its  might 
From  trees  and  beasts  and  men  into  the  Heaven's  light. 


The  splendors  of  the  firmament  of  time 
May  be  eclipsed,  but  are  extinguished  not ; 
Like  stars  to  their  appointed  height  they  climb,  390 

And  death  is  a  low  mist  which  cannot  blot 
The  brightness  it  may  veil.     When  lofty  thought 
Lifts  a  young  heart  above  its  mortal  lair. 
And  love  and  life  contend  in  it,  for  what 
Shall  be  its  earthly  doom,  the  dead  live  there  395 

And  move  like  winds  of  light  on  dark  and  stormy  air. 


SHELLEY  251 


The  inheritors  of  unfulfilled  renown 
Rose  from  their  thrones,  built  beyond  mortal  thought, 
Far  in  the  Unapparent.     Chatterton 

Rose  pale,  —  his  solemn  agony  had  not  ^co 

Yet  faded  from  him  ;  Sidney,  as  he  fought 
And  as  he  fell  and  as  he  lived  and  loved 
Sublimely  mild,  a  Spirit  without  spot. 
Arose  ;  and  Lucan,  by  his  death  approved  : 
Oblivion  as  they  rose  shrank  like  a  thing  reproved.  405 


And  many  more,  whose  names  on  earth  are  dark. 
But  whose  transmitted  effluence  cannot  die 
So  long  as  fire  outlives  the  parent  spark, 
Rose,  robed  in  dazzling  immortality. 

'  Thou  art  become  as  one  of  us,'  they  cry,  410 

'  It  was  for  thee  yon  kingless  sphere  has  long 
Swung  blind  in  unascended  majesty, 
Silent  alone  amid  a  Heaven  of  song. 
Assume  thy  winged  throne,  thou  Vesper  of  our  throng  ! ' 


XLVII 

Who  mourns  for  Adonais  ?     Oh,  come  forth,  415 

Fond  wretch  !  and  know  thyself  and  him  aright. 
Clasp  with  thy  panting  soul  the  pendulous  earth  ; 
As  from  a  centre,  dart  thy  spirit's  light 
Beyond  all  worlds,  until  its  spacious  might 
Satiate  the  void  circumference  :  then  shrink  420 

Even  to  a  point  within  our  day  and  night ; 
And  keep  thy  heart  light  lest  it  make  thee  sink 
When  hope  has  kindled  hope,  and  lured  thee  to  the  brink. 


252  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XLVIII 

Or  goto  Rome,  which  is  the  sepulchre, 

Oh,  not  of  him,  but  of  our  joy  :   'tis  nought  425 

That  ages,  empires,  and  rehgions,  there 
Lie  buried  in  the  ravage  they  have  wrought ; 
For  such  as  he  can  lend,  —  they  borrow  not 
Glory  from  those  who  made  the  world  their  prey  ; 
And  he  is  gathered  to  the  kings  of  thought  430 

Who  waged  contention  with  their  time's  decay, 
And  of  the  past  are  all  that  cannot  pass  away. 


XLIX 

Go  thou  to  Rome,  —  at  once  the  paradise, 
The  grave,  the  city,  and  the  wilderness  ; 
And  where  its  wrecks  like  shattered  mountains  rise,  435 

And  flowering  weeds  and  fragrant  copses  dress 
The  bones  of  Desolation's  nakedness 
Pass,  till  the  Spirit  of  the  spot  shall  lead 
Thy  footsteps  to  a  slope  of  green  access 
Where,  like  an  infant's  smile,  over  the  dead  440 

A  light  of  laughing  flowers  along  the  grass  is  spread  ; 


And  grey  walls  moulder  round,  on  which  dull  Time 
Feeds,  like  slow  fire  upon  a  hoary  brand  ; 
And  one  keen  pyramid  with  wedge  sublime, 
Pavilioning  the  dust  of  him  who  planned  445 

This  refuge  for  his  memory,  doth  stand 
Like  flame  transformed  to  marble  ;  and  beneath. 
Afield  is  spread,  on  which  a  newer  band 
Have  pitched  in  Heaven's  smile  their  camp  of  death, 
Welcoming  him  we  lose  with  scarce  extinguished  breath.     450 


SHELLEY  253 

LI 

Here  pause  :  these  graves  are  all  too  young  as  yet 
To  have  outgrown  the  sorrow  which  consigned 
Its  charge  to  each ;  and  if  the  seal  is  set, 
Here,  on  one  fountain  of  a  mourning  mind, 
Break  it  not  thou  !  too  surely  shalt  thou  find  455 

Thine  own  well  full,  if  thou  returnest  home, 
Of  tears  and  gall.     From  the  world's  bitter  wind 
Seek  shelter  in  the  shadow  of  the  tomb. 
What  Adonais  is,  why  fear  we  to  become  ? 


LI  I 

The  One  remains,  the  many  change  and  pass  ;  460 

Heaven's  light  forever  shines,  Earth's  shadows  fly  ; 
Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-colored  glass, 
Stains  the  white  radiance  of  Eternity, 
Until  Death  tramples  it  to  fragments.  —  Die, 
If  thou  wouldst  be  with  that  which  thou  dost  seek  !  465 

Follow  where  all  is  fled  !  —  Rome's  azure  sky, 
Flowers,  ruins,  statues,  music,  words  are  weak 
The  glory  they  transfuse  with  fitting  truth  to  speak. 


LIII 

Why  linger,  why  turn  back,  why  shrink,  my  Heart  ? 
Thy  hopes  are  gone  before  :  from  all  things  here  470 

They  have  departed  ;  thou  shouldst  now  depart ! 
A  light  is  past  from  the  revolving  year. 
And  man,  and  woman  ;  and  what  still  is  dear 
Attracts  to  crush,  repels  to  make  thee  wither. 
The  soft  sky  smiles,  — the  low  wind  whispers  near  :  475 

'Tis  Adonais  calls  !  oh,  hasten  thither. 
No  more  let  Life  divide  what  Death  can  join  together. 


254 


THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 


LIV 


That  light  whose  smile  kindles  the  Universe, 
That  beauty  in  which  all  things  work  and  move, 
That  benediction  which  the  eclipsing  curse  480 

Of  birth  can  quench  not,  that  sustaining  Love 
Which  through  the  web  of  being  blindly  wove 
By  man  and  beast  and  earth  and  air  and  sea, 
Burns  bright  or  dim,  as  each  are  mirrors  of 
The  fire  for  which  all  thirst ;  now  beams  on  me,  485 

Consuming  the  last  clouds  of  cold  mortality. 


LV 


The  breath  whose  might  I  have  invoked  in  song 
Descends  on  me  ;  my  spirit's  bark  is  driven. 
Far  from  the  shore,  far  from  the  trembling  throng 
Whose  sails  were  never  to  the  tempest  given  ;  490 

The  massy  earth  and  sphered  skies  are  riven  ! 
I  am  borne  darkly,  fearfully  afar  ; 
Whilst  burning  through  the  inmost  veil  of  Heaven, 
The  soul  of  Adonais,  like  a  star, 
Beacons  from  the  abode  where  the  Eternal  are.  495 

A   LAMENT 

O  WORLD  !  O  life  !  O  time  ! 
On  whose  last  steps  I  climb. 

Trembling  at  that  where  I  had  stood  before  ; 
When  will  return  the  glory  of  your  prime  ? 

No  more  —  oh,  never  more  !  5 

Out  of  the  day  and  night 
A  joy  has  taken  flight  ; 

Fresh  spring,  and  summer,  and  winter  hoar. 
Move  my  faint  heart  with  grief,  but  with  delight 

No  more  —  oh,  never  more  !  10 


KEATS  255 


JOHN  KEATS 

1795-1821 

ODE    TO    A    NIGHTINGALE 


My  heart  aches,  and  a  drowsy  numbness  pains 

My  sense,  as  though  of  hemlock  I  had  drunk, 
Or  emptied  some  dull  opiate  to  the  drains 

One  minute  past,  and  Lethe-wards  had  sunk : 
'Tis  not  through  envy  of  thy  happy  lot. 
But  being  too  happy  in  thy  happiness, — 
That  thou,  light-winged  Dryad  of  the  trees, 
In  some  melodious  plot 
Of  beechen  green,  and  shadows  numberless, 
Singest  of  summer  in  full-throated  ease. 


O  for  a  draught  of  vintage  !  that  hath  been 

Cool'd  a  long  age  in  the  deep-delved  earth. 
Tasting  of  Flora  and  the  country  green. 

Dance,  and  Provencal  song,  and  sunburnt  mirth  ! 
O  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South, 
Full  of  the  true,  the  blissful  Hippocrene, 
With  beaded  bubbles  winking  at  the  brim. 
And  purple-stained  mouth  ; 
That  I  might  drink,  and  leave  the  world  unseen. 
And  with  thee  fade  away  into  the  forest  dim  : 

III 

Fade  far  away,  dissolve,  and  quite  forget 

What  thou  among  the  leaves  hast  never  known. 


256  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

The  weariness,  the  fever,  and  the  fret 

Here,  where  men  sit  and  hear  each  other  groan ; 
Where  palsy  shakes  a  few,  sad,  last  gray  hairs,  25 

Where  youth  grows  pale,  and  spectre-thin,  and  dies ; 
Where  but  to  think  is  to  be  full  of  sorrow 
And  leaden-eyed  despairs, 
Where  Beauty  cannot  keep  her  lustrous  eyes, 

Or  new  Love  pine  at  them  beyond  to-morrow.  30 


Away  1  away  !  for  I  will  fly  to  thee, 

Not  charioted  by  Bacchus  and  his  pards, 
But  on  the  viewless  wings  of  Poesy, 

Though  the  dull  brain  perplexes  and  retards  : 
Already  with  thee  !  tender  is  the  night,  35 

And  haply  the  Queen-Moon  is  on  her  throne, 
Clustered  around  by  all  her  starry  Fays  ; 
But  here  there  is  no  light. 
Save  what  from  heaven  is  with  the  breezes  blown 

Through  verdurous  glooms  and  winding  mossy  ways.      40 


I  cannot  see  what  flowers  are  at  my  feet, 

Nor  what  soft  incense  hangs  upon  the  boughs, 
But,  in  embalmed  darkness,  guess  each  sweet 

Wherewith  the  seasonable  month  endows 
The  grass,  the  thicket,  and  the  fruit-tree  wild  ;  45 

White  hawthorne,  and  the  pastoral  eglantine  ; 
.Fast  fading  violets  cover'd  up  in  leaves  ; 
And  mid-May's  eldest  child. 
The  coming  musk-rose,  full  of  dewy  wine, 

The  murmurous  haunt  of  flies  on  summer  eves.  50 


KEATS  257 

VI 

Darkling  I  listen  ;  and  for  many  a  time 

I  have  been  half  in  love  with  easeful  Death, 
Call'd  him  soft  names  in  many  a  mused  rhyme, 

To  take  into  the  air  my  quiet  breath  ; 
Now  more  than  ever  seems  it  rich  to  die,  55 

To  cease  upon  the  midnight  with  no  pain, 
While  thou  art  pouring  forth  thy  soul  abroad 
In  such  an  ecstasy  ! 
Still  wouldst  thou  sing,  and  I  have  ears  in  vain  — 

To  thy  high  requiem  become  a  sod.  60 

VII 

Thou  wast  not  born  for  death,  immortal  Bird  ! 

No  hungry  generations  tread  thee  down  ; 
The  voice  I  hear  this  passing  night  was  heard 

In  ancient  days  by  emperor  and  clown  : 
Perhaps  the  self-same  song  that  found  a  path  65 

Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when,  sick  for  home. 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn  ; 
The  same  that  oft-times  hath 
Charm'd  magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam 

Of  perilous  seas,  in  faery  lands  forlorn.  70 

VIII 

Forlorn  !  the  very  word  is  like  a  bell 

To  toll  me  back  from  thee  to  my  sole  self ! 
Adieu  !  the  fancy  cannot  cheat  so  well 
As  she  is  fam'd  to  do,  deceiving  elf. 
Adieu  !  adieu  !  thy  plaintive  anthem  fades  75 

Past  the  near  meadows,  over  the  still  stream. 
Up  the  hill-side  ;  and  now  'tis  buried  deep 
In  the  next  valley-glades  : 

ENG.   I'OEMS 17 


258  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Was  it  a  vision,  or  a  waking  dream  ? 

Fled  is  that  music  :  —  Do  I  wake  or  sleep  ?  80 


ODE   ON    A   GRECIAN    URN 


Thou  still  unravish'd  bride  of  quietness, 

Thou  foster-child  of  silence  and  slow  time, 
Sylvan  historian,  who  canst  thus  express 

A  iiowery  tale  more  sweetly  than  our  rhyme : 
What  leaf-fring'd  legend  haunts  about  thy  shape 

Of  deities  or  mortals,  or  of  both, 
In  Tempe  or  the  dales  of  Arcady  ? 
What  men  or  gods  are  these  ?     What  maidens  loth  ? 

What  mad  pursuit  ?     What  struggle  to  escape  ? 
What  pipes  and  timbrels  ?     What  wild  ecstasy  ? 


Heard  melodies  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 

Are  sweeter  ;  therefore,  ye  soft  pipes,  play  on  ; 
Not  to  the  sensual  ear,  but,  more  endear'd. 

Pipe  to  the  spirit  ditties  of  no  tone : 
Fair  youth,  beneath  the  trees,  thou  canst  not  leave  15 

Thy  song,  nor  ever  can  those  trees  be  bare ; 
Bold  Lover,  never,  never  canst  thou  kiss, 
Though  winning  near  the  goal  —  yet,  do  not  grieve  ; 
She  cannot  fade,  though  thou  hast  not  thy  bliss. 
Forever  wilt  thou  love,  and  she  be  fair !  20 

III 

Ah,  happy,  happy  boughs  !  that  cannot  shed 

Your  leaves,  nor  ever  bid  the  Spring  adieu ; 
And  happy  melodist,  unwearied, 


KEATS  259 

Forever  piping  songs  forever  new  ; 
More  happy  love  !  more  happy,  happy  love  !  25 

Forever  warm  and  still  to  be  enjoy'd, 
Forever  panting,  and  forever  young  ; 

All  breathing  human  passion  far  above, 
That  leaves  a  heart  high-sorrowful  and  cloy'd, 

A  burning  forehead,  and  a  parching  tongue.  30 

IV 

Who  are  these  coming  to  the  sacrifice  ? 

To  what  green  altar,  O  mysterious  priest, 
Lead'st  thou  that  heifer  lowing  at  the  skies, 

And  all  her  silken  flanks  with  garlands  drest  ? 
What  little  town  by  river  or  seashore,  35 

Or  mountain-built  with  peaceful  citadel, 
Is  emptied  of  this  folk,  this  pious  morn  ? 

And,  little  town,  thy  streets  forever  more 
Will  silent  be  ;  and  not  a  soul  to  tell 

Why  thou  art  desolate,  can  e'er  return.  40 


O  Attic  shape  !     Fair  attitude  !  with  brede 

Of  marble  men  and  maidens  overwrought. 
With  forest  branches  and  the  trodden  weed ; 

Thou,  silent  form,  dost  tease  us  out  of  thought 
As  doth  eternity  :     Cold  Pastoral !  45 

When  old  age  shall  this  generation  waste, 
Thou  shalt  remain,  in  midst  of  other  woe 

Than  ours,  a  friend  to  man,  to  whom  thou  say'st, 
'  Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty,'  —  that  is  all 

Ye  know  on  earth,  and  all  ye  need  to  know.  50 


26o  THE   ROMANTIC    PERIOD 

LA   BELLE   DAME   SANS    MERCI 

Ah,  what  can  ail  thee,  wretched  wight, 

Alone  and  palely  loitering  ? 
The  sedge  is  wither'd  from  the  lake, 

And  no  birds  sing. 

Ah,  what  can  ail  thee,  wretched  wight,  5 

So  haggard  and  so  woe-begone  ? 
The  squirrel's  granary  is  full, 

And  the  harvest's  done. 

I  see  a  lily  on  thy  brow. 

With  anguish  moist  and  fever  dew ;  lo 

And  on  thy  cheek  a  fading  rose 

Fast  withereth  too. 

I  met  a  lady  in  the  meads 

Full  beautiful,  a  faery's  child  ; 
Her  hair  was  long,  her  foot  was  light,  15 

And  her  eyes  were  wild. 

1  set  her  on  my  pacing  steed. 

And  nothing  else  saw  all  day  long ; 

For  sideways  would  she  lean,  and  sing 

A  faery's  song.  20 

I  made  a  garland  for  her  head, 

And  bracelets  too,  and  fragrant  zone  ; 

She  look'd  at  me  as  she  did  love. 
And  made  sweet  moan. 

She  found  me  roots  of  relish  sweet,  25 

And  honey  wild,  and  manna  dew  ; 

And  sure  in  language  strange  she  said, 
'  I  love  thee  true.' 


KEATS  261 

She  took  me  to  her  elfin  grot, 

And  there  she  gazed,  and  sighed  deep,  30 

And  there  I  shut  her  wild,  wild  eyes  — 

So  kiss'd  to  sleep. 

And  there  we  slumber'd  on  the  moss. 
And  there  I  dream 'd,  ah  !  woe  betide  1 

The  latest  dream  I  ever  dream'd  35 

On  the  cold  hill  side. 

I  saw  pale  kings,  and  princes  too. 

Pale  warriors,  death-pale  were  they  all ; 

Who  cry'd  — '  La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci, 

Hath  thee  in  thrall ! '  40 

I  saw  their  starved  lips  in  the  gloam, 

With  horrid  warning  gaped  wide, 
And  I  awoke,  and  found  me  here 

On  the  cold  hill  side. 

And  this  is  why  I  sojourn  here  45 

Alone  and  palely  loitering, 
Though  the  sedge  is  wither'd  from  the  lake, 

And  no  birds  sins:. 


ON    FIRST   LOOKING    INTO    CHAPMAN'S    HOMER 

Much  have  I  travel'd  in  the  realms  of  gold. 

And  many  goodly  states  and  kingdoms  seen; 

Round  many  western  islands  have  I  been 
Which  bards  in  fealty  to  Apollo  hold. 
Oft  of  one  wide  expanse  had  1  been  told 

That  deep-brow'd  Homer  ruled  as  his  demesne  ; 

Yet  did  I  never  breathe  its  pure  serene 
Till  I  heard  Chapman  speak  out  loud  and  bold  : 


262  THE    ROMANTIC  PERIOD 

Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken  ; 

Or  like  stout  Cortez  when  with  eagle  eyes 
He  star'd  at  the  Pacific  —  and  all  his  men 

Look'd  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise  — 
Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien. 

THE    EVE   OF   ST.    AGNES 


St.  Agnes'  Eve  —  Ah,  bitter  chill  it  was! 
The  owl,  for  all  his  feathers,  was  a-cold  ; 
The  hare  limp'd  trembling  through  the  frozen  grass, 
And  silent  was  the  flock  in  woolly  fold  : 
Numb  were  the  Beadsman's  fingers,  while  he  told 
His  rosary,  and  while  his  frosted  breath. 
Like  pious  incense  from  a  censer  old, 
Seem'd  taking  flight  for  heaven,  without  a  death. 
Past  the  sweet  Virgin's  picture,  while  his  prayer  he  saith. 


His  prayer  he  saith,  this  patient,  holy  man  ;  lo 

Then  takes  his  lamp,  and  riseth  from  his  knees, 
And  back  returneth,  meagre,  barefoot,  wan. 
Along  the  chapel  aisle  by  slow  degrees  : 
The  sculptur'd  dead,  on  each  side,  seem  to  freeze, 
Emprison'd  in  black,  purgatorial  rails :  15 

Knights,  ladies,  praying  in  dumb  orat'ries, 
He  passeth  by ;  and  his  weak  spirit  fails 
To  think  how  they  may  ache  in  icy  hoods  and  mails. 

Ill 

Northward  he  turneth  through  a  little  door, 

And  scarce  three  steps,  ere  Music's  golden  tongue  20 


KEATS  263 

Flatter'd  to  tears  this  aged  man  and  poor ; 
But  no  —  already  had  his  death-bell  rung ; 
The  joys  of  all  his  life  were  said  and  sung : 
His  was  harsh  penance  on  St.  Agnes'  Eve : 
Another  way  he  went,  and  soon  among  25 

Rough  ashes  sat  he  for  his  soul's  reprieve, 
And  all  night  kept  awake,  for  sinners'  sake  to  grieve. 


That  ancient  Beadsman  heard  the  prelude  soft ; 
And  so  it  chanc'd,  for  many  a  door  was  wide, 
From  hurry  to  and  fro.     Soon,  up  aloft,  30 

The  silver,  snarling  trumpets  'gan  to  chide  : 
The  level  chambers,  ready  with  their  pride, 
Were  glowing  to  receive  a  thousand  guests  : 
The  carved  angels,  ever  eager-eyed, 

Star'd,  where  upon  their  heads  the  cornice  rests,  35 

With  hair  blown  back,  and  wings  put  cross-wise  on  their  breasts. 


At  length  burst  in  the  argent  revelry. 
With  plume,  tiara,  and  all  rich  array. 
Numerous  as  shadows  haunting  fairily 

The  brain,  new-stuff'd,  in  youth,  with  triumphs  gay  40 

Of  old  romance.     These  let  us  wish  away. 
And  turn,  sole-thoughted,  to  one  Lady  there. 
Whose  heart  had  brooded,  all  that  wintry  day, 
On  love,  and  wing'd  St.  Agnes'  saintly  care, 
As  she  had  heard  old  dames  full  many  a  time  declare.  45 


They  told  her  how,  upon  St.  Agnes'  Eve, 
Young  virgins  might  have  visions  of  delight, 
And  soft  adorinccs  from  their  loves  receive 


264  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Upon  the  honey 'd  middle  of  the  night, 

If  ceremonies  due  they  did  aright ;  50 

As,  supperless  to  bed  they  must  retire. 
And  couch  supine  their  beauties,  hly  white  ; 
Nor  look  behind,  nor  sideways,  but  require 
Of  Heaven  with  upward  eyes  for  all  that  they  desire. 


Full  of  this  whim  was  thoughtful  Madeline :  55 

The  music,  yearning  like  a  god  in  pain. 
She  scarcely  heard :  her  maiden  eyes  divine, 
Fix'd  on  the  floor,  saw  many  a  sweeping  train 
Pass  by  —  she  heeded  not  at  all :  in  vain 

Came  many  a  tip-toe,  amorous  cavalier,  60 

And  back  retir'd  ;  not  cool'd  by  high  disdain, 
But  she  saw  not :  her  heart  was  otherwhere  : 
She  sigh'd  for  Agnes'  dreams,  the  sweetest  of  the  year. 

VIII 

She  danced  along  with  vague,  regardless  eyes, 
Anxious  her  lips,  her  breathing  quick  and  short :  65 

The  hallow 'd  hour  was  near  at  hand  :  she  sighs 
Amid  the  timbrels,  and  the  throng'd  resort 
Of  whisperers  in  anger,  or  in  sport ; 
'Mid  looks  of  love,  defiance,  hate,  and  scorn, 
Hoodwink'd  with  faery  fancy  ;   all  amort,  70 

Save  to  St.  Agnes  and  her  lambs  unshorn. 
And  all  the  bliss  to  be  before  to-morrow  morn. 

IX 

So,  purposing  each  moment  to  retire, 

She  linger'd  still.     Meantime,  across  the  moors. 

Had  come  young  Porphyro,  with  heart  on  fire  75 

For  Madeline.     Beside  the  portal  doors. 


KEATS  265 

Buttress'd  from  moonlight,  stands  he,  and  implores 
All  samts  to  give  him  sight  of  Madeline, 
But  for  one  moment  in  the  tedious  hours. 
That  he  might  gaze  and  worship  all  unseen  ;  80 

Perchance  speak,  kneel,  touch,  kiss  —  in  sooth  such  things  have 
been. 

X 

He  ventures  in  :  let  no  buzz'd  whisper  tell : 
All  eyes  be  muffled,  or  a  hundred  swords 
Will  storm  his  heart.  Love's  fev'rous  citadel : 
For  him  those  chambers  held  barbarian  hordes,  85 

Hyena  foemen,  and  hot-blooded  lords, 
Whose  very  dogs  would  execrations  howl 
Against  his  lineage  :  not  one  breast  affords 
Him  any  mercy,  in  that  mansion  foul. 
Save  one  old  beldame,  weak  in  body  and  in  soul.  90 

XI 

Ah,  happy  chance  !  the  aged  creature  came, 
Shuffling  along  with  ivory-headed  wand, 
To  where  he  stood,  hid  from  the  torch's  flame. 
Behind  a  broad  hall-pillar,  far  beyond 

The  sound  of  merriment  and  chorus  bland  :  95 

He  startled  her  ;  but  soon  she  knew  his  face, 
And  grasp'd  his  fingers  in  her  palsied  hand. 
Saying,  '  Mercy,  Porphyro  !  hie  thee  from  this  place  ; 
They  are  all  here  to-night,  the  whole  blood-thirsty  race  ! 

XII 

'  Get  hence  !  get  hence  !  there's  dwarfish  Hildebrand  ;  100 

He  had  a  fever  late,  and  in  the  fit 

He  cursed  thee  and  thine,  both  house  and  land  : 

Then  there's  that  old  Lord  Maurice,  not  a  whit 

More  tame  for  his  grey  hairs  —  Alas  me  !  flit ! 


"5 


266  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

Flit  like  a  ghost  away.'     '  Ah,  Gossip  dear,  105 

We're  safe  enough  ;  here  in  this  arm-chair  sit, 
And  tell  me  how  '  —  '  Good  Saints  !  not  here,  not  here  ; 
Follow  me,  child,  or  else  these  stones  will  be  thy  bier.' 

XIII 

He  follow'd  through  a  lowly  arched  way, 

Brushing  the  cobwebs  with  his  lofty  plume  ;  no 

And  as  she  mutter 'd  '  VVell-a  —  well-a-day  !  ' 
He  found  him  in  a  little  moonlight  room, 
Pale,  latticed,  chill,  and  silent  as  a  tomb. 
'  Now  tell  me  where  is  Madeline,'  said  he, 
'  O  tell  me,  Angela,  by  the  holy  loom 
Which  none  but  secret  sisterhood  may  see. 
When  they  St.  Agnes'  wool  are  weaving  piously.' 

XIV 

'  St.  Agnes  1     Ah  !  it  is  St.  Agnes'  Eve  — 
Yet  men  will  murder  upon  holy  days  : 

Thou  must  hold  water  in  a  witch's  sieve,  120 

And  be  liege-lord  of  all  the  Elves  and  Fays, 
To  venture  so  :  it  fills  me  with  amaze 
To  see  thee,  Porphyro  !  —  St.  Agnes'  Eve  ! 
God's  help  !  my  lady  fair  the  conjuror  plays 
This  very  night :  good  angels  her  deceive  !  125 

But  let  me  laugh  awhile,  I've  mickle  time  to  grieve.' 

XV 

Feebly  she  laugheth  in  the  languid  moon, 

While  Porphyro  upon  her  face  doth  look, 

Like  puzzled  urchin  on  an  agfed  crone 

Who  keepeth  clos'd  a  wondrous  riddle-book,  130 

As  spectacled  she  sits  in  chimney  nook. 

But  soon  his  eyes  grew  brilliant,  when  she  told 


KEATS  267 

His  lady's  purpose  ;  and  he  scarce  could  brook 
Tears,  at  the  thought  of  those  enchantments  cold, 
And  Madeline  asleep  in  lap  of  legends  old.  135 

XVI 

Sudden  a  thought  came  like  a  full-blown  rose, 
Flushing  his  brow,  and  in  his  pained  heart 
Made  purple  riot :  then  doth  he  propose 
A  stratagem,  that  makes  the  beldame  start : 
'  A  cruel  man  and  impious  thou  art  :  ,  140 

Sweet  lady,  let  her  pray,  and  sleep  and  dream 
Alone  with  her  good  angels,  far  apart 
From  wicked  men  like  thee.     Go,  go  !  —  I  deem 
Thou  canst  not  surely  be  the  same  that  thou  didst  seem.' 

XVII 

'  I  will  not  harm  her,  by  all  saints  I  swear,'  1.15 

Quoth  Porphyro  :  '  O  may  I  ne'er  find  grace 
When  my  weak  voice  shall  whisper  its  last  prayer, 
If  one  of  her  soft  ringlets  I  displace, 
Or  look  with  ruffian  passion  in  her  face : 

Good  Angela,  believe  me  by  these  tears  ;  150 

Or  I  will,  even  in  a  moment's  space. 
Awake,  with  horrid  shout,  my  foemen's  ears, 
And  beard  them,  though  they  be  more  fang'd  than  wolves  a;  <\ 
bears.' 

XVIII 

'  Ah  !  why  wilt  thou  affright  a  feeble  soul  ? 

A  poor,  weak,  palsy-stricken,  church-yard  thing,  155 

Whose  passing-bell  may  ere  the  midnight  toll ; 

Whose  prayers  for  thee,  each  morn  and  evening, 

Were  never  miss'd.'     Thus  plaining,  doth  she  bring 

A  gentler  speech  from  burning  Porphyro  ; 

So  woeful,  and  of  such  deep  sorrowing,  160 


268  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

That  Angela  gives  promise  she  will  do 
Whatever  he  shall  wish,  betide  her  weal  or  woe. 

XIX 

Which  was,  to  lead  him,  in  close  secrecy, 
Even  to  Madeline's  chamber,  and  there  hide 
Him  in  a  closet,  of  such  privacy  165 

That  he  might  see  her  beauty  unespied. 
And  win  perhaps  that  night  a  peerless  bride, 
While  legion'd  fairies  pac'd  the  coverlet. 
And  pale  enchantment  held  her  sleepy-eyed. 
Never  on  such  a  night  have  lovers  met,  170 

Since  Merlin  paid  his  Demon  all  the  monstrous  debt. 

XX 

'  It  shall  be  as  thou  wishest,'  said  the  Dame  : 
'  All  cates  and  dainties  shall  be  stored  there 
Quickly  on  this  feast-night :  by  the  tambour  frame 
Her  own  lute  thou  wilt  see :  no  time  to  spare,  175 

For  I  am  slow  and  feeble,  and  scarce  dare 
On  such  a  catering  trust  my  dizzy  head. 
W^ait  here,  my  child,  with  patience ;  kneel  in  prayer 
The  while  :  Ah  !  thou  must  needs  the  lady  wed. 
Or  may  I  never  leave  my  grave  among  the  dead.'  180 

XXI 

So  saying,  she  hobbled  off  with  busy  fear. 
The  lover's  endless  minutes  slowly  pass'd  ; 
The  dame  return'd,  and  whisper'd  in  his  ear 
To  follow  her  ;  with  aged  eyes  aghast 

From  fright  of  dim  espial.     Safe  at  last,  185 

Through  many  a  dusky  gallery,  they  gain 
The  maiden's  chamber,  silken,  hush'd  and  chaste; 
Where  Porphyro  took  covert,  pleas'd  amain. 
His  poor  guide  hurried  back  with  agues  in  her  brain. 


KEATS  269 


XXII 


Her  falt'ring  hand  upon  the  balustrade,  190 

Old  Angela  was  feeling  for  the  stair, 
When  Madeline,  St.  Agnes'  charmed  maid, 
Rose,  like  a  mission 'd  spirit,  unaware  : 
With  silver  taper's  light,  and  pious  care, 

She  turn'd,  and  down  the  aged  gossip  led  195 

To  a  safe  level  matting.     Now  prepare. 
Young  Porphyro,  for  gazing  on  that  bed  ; 
She  comes,  she  comes  again,  like  ring-dove  fray'd  and  fled. 


XXIII 


Out  went  the  taper  as  she  hurried  in  ; 

Its  little  smoke,  in  pallid  moonshine,  died  :  200 

She  closed  the  door,  she  panted,  all  akin 
To  spirits  of  the  air,  and  visions  wide  : 
No  utter'd  syllable,  or,  woe  betide  ! 
But  to  her  heart,  her  heart  was  voluble, 

Paining  with  eloquence  her  balmy  side  ;  205 

As  though  a  tongueless  nightingale  should  swell 
Her  throat  in  vain,  and  die,  heart-stifled,  in  her  dell. 


XXIV 

A  casement  high  and  triple-arch'd  there  was, 
All  garlanded  with  carven  imag'ries 

Of  fruits,  and  flowers,  and  bunches  of  knot-grass,  210 

And  diamonded  with  panes  of  quaint  device, 
Innumerable  of  stains  and  splendid  dyes. 
As  are  the  tiger-moth's  deep  damask'd  wings  ; 
And  in  the  midst,  'mong  thousand  heraldries, 
And  twilight  saints,  and  dim  emblazonings,  215 

A  shielded  scutcheon  blush'd  with  blood  of  queens  and  kings. 


2/0  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XXV 

Full  on  this  casement  shone  the  wintry  moon, 
And  threw  warm  gules  on  Madeline's  fair  breast, 
As  down  she  knelt  for  heaven's  grace  and  boon  ; 
Rose-bloom  fell  on  her  hands,  together  prest,  220 

And  on  her  silver  cross  soft  amethyst, 
And  on  her  hair  a  glory,  like  a  saint : 
She  seem'd  a  splendid  angel,  newly  drest. 
Save  wings,  for  heaven  :  —  Porphyro  grew  faint : 
She  knelt  so  pure  a  thing,  so  free  from  mortal  taint.  225 


XXVI 

Anon  his  heart  revives  :  her  vespers  done, 
Of  all  its  wreathed  pearls  her  hair  she  frees  ; 
Unclasps  her  warmed  jewels  one  by  one  ; 
Loosens  her  fragrant  bodice  ;  by  degrees 

Her  rich  attire  creeps  rustling  to  her  knees  :  •       230 

Half-hidden,  like  a  mermaid  in  sea-weed, 
Pensive  awhile  she  dreams  awake,  and  sees. 
In  fancy,  fair  St.  Agnes  in  her  bed, 
But  dares  not  look  behind,  or  all  the  charm  is  fled. 


XXVII 

Soon,  trembling  in  her  soft  and  chilly  nest,  235 

In  sort  of  wakeful  swoon,  perplex'd  she  lay. 
Until  the  poppied  warmth  of  sleep  oppres'd 
Her  soothed  limbs,  and  soul  fatigued  away ; 
Flown,  like  a  thought,  until  the  morrow-day; 
Blissfully  haven'd  both  from  joy  and  pain:  240 

Clasp'd  like  a  missal  where  swart  Paynims  pray ; 
Blinded  alike  from  sunshine  and  from  rain, 
As  though  a  rose  should  shut,  and  be  a  bud  again. 


KEATS  271 


XXVIII 


Stol'n  to  this  paradise,  and  so  entranced, 
Porphyro  gaz'd  upon  her  empty  dress,  245 

And  Usten'd  to  her  breathing,  if  it  chanced 
To  wake  into  a  shimberous  tenderness  ; 
Which  when  he  heard,  that  minute  did  he  bless, 
And  breath'd  himself :  then  from  the  closet  crept, 
Noiseless  as  fear  in  a  wide  wilderness,  250 

And  over  the  hush'd  carpet,  silent,  stept, 
And  'tween  the  curtains  peep'd,  where,  lo  !  — how  fast  she  slept. 


XXIX 


Then  by  the  bed-side,  where  the  faded  moon 
Made  a  dim,  silver  twilight,  soft  he  set 

A  table,  and,  half-anguish'd,  threw  thereon  255 

A  cloth  of  woven  crimson,  gold,  and  jet :  — 
O  for  some  drowsy  Morphean  amulet ! 
The  boisterous,  midnight,  festive  clarion. 
The  kettle-drum,  and  far-heard  clarionet, 
Affray  his  ears,  though  but  in  dying  tone  :  —  260 

The  hall-door  shuts  again,  and  all  the  noise  is  gone. 


XXX 


And  still  she  slept  an  azure-lidded  sleep, 
In  blanched  linen,  smooth  and  lavender'd. 
While  he  from  forth  the  closet  brought  a  heap 
Of  candied  apple,  quince,  and  plum,  and  gourd ;  265 

With  jellies  soother  than  the  creamy  curd, 
And  lucent  syrops,  tinct  with  cinnamon  ; 
Manna  and  dates,  in  argosy  transferr'd 
From  Fez  ;  and  spiced  dainties,  every  one, 
From  silken  Samarcand  to  cedar'd  Lebanon.  270 


2/2  THE    ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

XXXI 

These  delicates  he  heap'd  with  glowing  hand 
On  golden  dishes  and  in  baskets  bright 
Of  wreathed  silver  :  sumptuous  they  stand 
In  the  retired  quiet  of  the  night, 

Filling  the  chilly  room  with  perfume  light.  —  275 

'  And  now,  my  love,  my  seraph  fair,  awake  ! 
Thou  art  my  heaven,  and  I  thine  eremite: 
Open  thine  eyes,  for  meek  St.  Agnes'  sake, 
Or  I  shall  drowse  beside  thee,  so  my  soul  doth  ache.' 


XXXII 

Thus  whispering,  his  warm,  unnerved  arm  280 

Sank  in  her  pillow.     Shaded  was  her  dream 
By  the  dusk  curtains  :  —  'twas  a  midnight  charm 
Impossible  to  melt  as  iced  stream : 
The  lustrous  salvers  in  the  moonlight  gleam  ; 
Broad  golden  fringe  upon  the  carpet  lies :  285 

It  seem'd  he  never,  never  could  redeem 
From  such  a  steadfast  spell  his  lady's  eyes  ; 
So  mus'd  awhile,  entoil'd  in  woofed  phantasies. 


XXXIIT 

Awakening  up,  he  took  her  hollow  lute, — 
Tumultuous,  —  and,  in  chords  that  tenderest  be,  290 

He  play'd  an  ancient  ditty,  long  since  mute. 
In  Province  call'd,  'La  belle  dame  sans  merci;' 
Close  to  her  ear  touching  the  melody  ;  — 
Wherewith  disturb'd,  she  utter'd  a  soft  moan  : 
He  ceased  —  she  panted  quick  —  and  suddenly  295 

Her  blue  aff rayed  eyes  wide  open  shone  : 
Upon  his  knees  he  sank,  pale  as  smooth-sculptured  stone. 


KEATS  273 

XXXIV 

Her  eyes  were  open,  but  she  still  beheld, 
Now  wide  awake,  the  vision  of  her  sleep  : 
There  was  a  painful  change,  that  nigh  expell'd  300 

The  blisses  of  her  dream  so  pure  and  deep  ; 
At  which  fair  Madeline  began  to  weep, 
And  moan  forth  witless  words  with  many  a  sigh  ; 
While  still  her  gaze  on  Porphyro  would  keep  ; 
Who  knelt,  with  joined  hands  and  piteous  eye,  505 

Fearing  to  move  or  speak,  she  look'd  so  dreamingly. 


XXXV 

'  Ah,  Porphyro  !  '  she  said,  '  but  even  now 
Thy  voice  was  at  sweet  tremble  in  mine  ear, 
Made  tuneable  with  every  sweetest  vow  ; 

And  those  sad  eyes  were  spiritual  and  clear :  310 

How  chang'd  thou  art !  how  pallid,  chill,  and  drear  ! 
Give  me  that  voice  again,  my  Porphyro, 
Those  looks  immortal,  those  complainings  dear  ! 
O  leave  me  not  in  this  eternal  woe. 
For  if  thou  diest,  my  Love,  I  know  not  where  to  go.'  315 


xxxvi 

Beyond  a  mortal  man  impassion 'd  far 
At  these  voluptuous  accents,  he  arose, 
Ethereal,  flush'd,  and  like  a  throbbing  star 
Seen  mid  the  sapphire  heaven's  deep  repose; 
Into  her  dream  he  melted,  as  the  rose  320 

Blendeth  its  odor  with  the  violet,  — 
Solution  sweet :  meantime  the  frost-wind  blows 
Like  Love's  alarum  pattering  the  sharp  sleet 
Against  the  window-panes  ;  St.  Agnes'  moon  hath  set. 

ENG.    POEMS —  18 


274  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 


XXXVII 


'Tis  dark  :  quick  pattereth  the  flaw-blown  sleet :  325 

'  This  is  no  dream,  my  bride,  my  Madeline  !  ' 
'Tis  dark  :  the  iced  gusts  still  rave  and  beat : 
'  No  dream,  alas  !  alas  !  and  woe  is  mine  ! 
Porphyro  will  leave  me  here  to  fade  and  pine.  — 
Cruel !  what  traitor  could  thee  hither  bring  ?  330 

I  cvirse  not,  for  my  heart  is  lost  in  thine, 
Though  thou  forsakest  a  deceived  thing  ;  — 
A  dove  forlorn  and  lost  with  sick  unpruned  wing.' 


XXXVIII 

'  My  Madeline  !  sweet  dreamer  !  lovely  bride  ! 
Say,  may  I  be  for  aye  thy  vassal  blest  ?  335 

Thy  beauty's  shield,  heart-shap'd  and  vermeil  dyed  ? 
Ah,  silver  shrine,  here  will  I  take  my  rest 
After  so  many  hours  of  toil  and  quest, 
A  famish'd  pilgrim,  —  saved  by  miracle. 

Though  I  have  found,  I  will  not  rob  thy  nest  340 

Saving  of  thy  sweet  self ;  if  thou  think'st  well 
To  trust,  fair  Madeline,  to  no  rude  infidel.' 


XXXIX 

'  Hark  !  'tis  an  elfin  storm  from  faery  land, 
Of  haggard  seeming,  but  a  boon  indeed  : 

Arise  —  arise  !  the  morning  is  at  hand  ;  —  345 

The  bloated  wassailers  will  never  heed  :  — 
Let  us  away,  my  love,  with  happy  speed  ; 
There  are  no  ears  to  hear,  or  eyes  to  see,  — 
Drown 'd  all  in  Rhenish  and  the  sleepy  mead : 
Awake  !  arise  !   my  love,  and  fearless  be,  350 

For  o'er  the  southern  moors  I  have  a  home  for  thee.' 


KEATS  275 

XL 

She  hurried  at  his  words,  beset  with  fears, 
For  there  were  sleeping  dragons  all  around. 
At  glaring  watch,  perhaps,  with  ready  spears  — 
Down  the  wide  stairs  a  darkUng  way  they  found,  —  355 

In  all  the  house  was  heard  no  human  sound. 
A  chain-droop'd  lamp  was  flickering  by  each  door ; 
The  arras,  rich  with  horseman,  hawk,  and  hound, 
Flutter'd  in  the  besieging  wind's  uproar ; 
And  the  long  carpets  rose  along  the  gusty  floor.  360 


XLI 

They  glide,  hke  phantoms,  into  the  wide  hall ; 
Like  phantoms  to  the  iron  porch  they  glide ; 
Where  lay  the  Porter,  in  uneasy  sprawl, 
With  a  huge  empty  flagon  by  his  side  : 

The  wakeful  bloodhound  rose,  and  shook  his  hide,  365 

But  his  sagacious  eye  an  inmate  owns  : 
By  one,  and  one,  the  bolts  full  easy  slide  : — 
The  chains  lie  silent  on  the  footworn  stones  ;  — 
The  key  turns,  and  the  door  upon  its  hinges  groans  ; 


XLII 

And  they  are  gone  :  aye,  ages  long  ago  37c 

These  lovers  fled  away  into  the  storm. 
That  night  the  Baron  dreamt  of  many  a  woe, 
And  all  his  warrior-guests,   with  shade  and  form 
Of  witch,  and  demon,  and  large  coffin-worm, 
Were  long  be-nightmar'd.     Angela  the  old  375 

Died  palsy-twitch'd,  with  meagre  face  deform  ; 
The  Beadsman,  after  thousand  aves  told, 
For  aye  unsought-for  slept  among  his  ashes  cold. 


2/6  THE   ROMANTIC   PERIOD 

THOMAS  HOOD 

1799-1845 

I  REMEMBER,  I  REMEMBER 

I  REMEMBER,  I  remember. 

The  house  where  I  was  born, 

The  Httle  window  where  the  sun 

Came  peeping  in  at  morn  ; 

He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon,  5 

Nor  brought  too  long  a  day  ; 

But  now,  I  often  wish  the  night 

Had  borne  my  breath  away. 

I  remember,  I  remember 

The  roses,  red  and  white,  10 

The  violets,  and  the  lily-cups. 

Those  flowers  made  of  light ! 

The  lilacs  where  the  robin  built. 

And  where  my  brother  set 

The  laburnum  on  his  birth-day,  —  15 

The  tree  is  living  yet ! 

I  remember,  I  remember 

Where  I  was  used  to  swing, 

And  thought  the  air  must  rush  as  fresh 

To  swallows  on  the  wing  ;  20 

My  spirit  flew  in  feathers  then. 

That  is  so  heavy  now, 

And  summer  pools  could  hardly  cool 

The  fever  on  my  brow  ! 

I  remember,  I  remember  25 

The  fir-trees  dark  and  high; 


HOOD  277 

I  used  to  think  their  slender  tops 

Were  close  against  the  sky  : 

It  was  a  childish  ignorance, 

But  now  'tis  little  joy  30 

To  know  I'm  farther  off  from  Heav'n 

Than  when  I  was  a  boy. 


2/8  THE  VICTORIAN   PERIOD 


THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

THOMAS    BABINGTON    MACAULAY 

1800-1859 

THE   BATTLE   OF   NASEBY 

BY    OBADIAH    BIND-THEIR-KINGS-IN-CHAINS-AND-THEIR-NOBLES- 
WITH-LINKS-OF-IRON,  SERGEANT  IN  IRETON'S  REGIMENT 

Oh  !  Wherefore  come  ye  forth,  in  triumph  from  the  North, 
With  your  hands,  and  your  feet,  and  your  raiment  all  red  ? 
And  wherefore  do  your  rout  send  forth  a  joyous  shout  ? 
And  whence  are  the  grapes  of  the  wine-press  that  ye  tread  ? 

Oh  evil  was  the  root,  and  bitter  was  the  fruit,  5 

And  crimson  was  the  juice  of  the  vintage  that  we  trod  ; 
For  we  trampled  on  the  throng  of  the  haughty  and  the  strong, 
Who  sate  in  the  high  places,  and  slew  the  saints  of  God. 

It  was  about  the  noon  of  a  glorious  day  of  June, 
That  we  saw  their  banners  dance,  and  their  cuirasses  shine  ;     10 
And  the  Man  of  Blood  was  there,  with  his  long  essenced  hair  ; 
And  Astley,  and  Sir  Marmaduke,  and  Rupert  of  the  Rhine. 

Like  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  with  his  Bible  and  his  sword. 
The  General  rode  along  us  to  form  us  for  the  fight, 
When  a  murmuring  sound  broke  out,  and  swelled  into  a  shout,  15 
Among  the  godless  horsemen  upon  the  tyrant's  right. 

And  hark !  like  the  roar  of  the  billow  on  the  shore. 

The  cry  of  battle  rises  along  their  charging  line  ! 

For  God  !  for  the  Cause  !  for  the  Church,  for  the  Laws  ! 

For  Charles,  King  of  England,  and  Rupert  of  the  Rhine  !  20 


MACAULAY  279 

The  furious  German  comes,  with  his  trumpets  and  his  drums, 

His  bravoes  of  Alsatia,  and  pages  of  Whitehall ; 

They  are  bursting  on  our  Hanks.     Grasp  your  pikes,  close  your 

ranks ; 
For  Rupert  never  comes,  but  to  conquer  or  to  fall. 

They  are  here  !  they  rush  on  !  We  are  broken  !  we  are  gone  !    25 
Our  left  is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on  the  blast- 
O  Lord,  put  forth  thy  might !     O  Lord,  defend  the  right ! 
Stand  back  to  back,  in  God's  name,  and  fight  it  to  the  last. 

Stout  Skippen  hath  a  wound  ;  the  centre  hath  given  ground  : 
Hark  !  hark !  —  What  means  this  trampling  of  horsemen  in  the 
rear  ?  30 

What  banner  do  I  see,  boys  ?     'Tis  he,  thank  God,  'tis  he,  boys. 
Bear  up  another  minute  ;     Brave  Oliver  is  here. 

Their  heads  are  stooping  low,  their  pikes  all  in  a  row. 
Like  a  whirlwind  on  the  trees,  like  a  deluge  on  the  dykes. 
Our  cuirassiers  have  burst  on  the  ranks  of  the  Accurst,  35 

And  at  a  shock  have  scattered  the  forest  of  his  pikes. 

Fast,  fast,  the  gallants  ride,  in  some  safe  nook  to  hide 

Their  coward  heads,  predestined  to  rot  on  Temple  Bar  : 

And  he — he  turns,  he  flies  :  shame  to  those  cruel  eyes 

That  bore  to  look  on  torture,  and  dare  not  look  on  war.  40 

Ho  !  comrades,  scour  the  plain,  and,  ere  ye  strip  the  slain. 

First  give  another  stab  to  make  the  quest  secure. 

Then  shake  from  sleeves  and  pockets  their  broad-pieces    and 

lockets, 
The  tokens  of  the  wanton,  the  plunder  of  the  poor. 

Fools  !  your  doubtlets  shone  with  gold,  and  your  hearts  were  gay 
and  bold,  45 

When  you  kiss'd  your  lily  hands  to  your  lemans  to-day  ; 


28o  THE  VICTORLW    PERIOD 

And  to-morrow  shall  the  fox,  from  her  chambers  in  the  rocks, 
Lead  forth  her  tawny  cubs  to  howl  above  the  prey. 

Where  be  your  tongues,  that  late  mocked  at  heaven,  and  hell 

and  fate. 
And  the  fingers  that  once  were  so  busy  with  your  blades,  50 

Your  perfumed  satin  clothes,  your  catches  and  your  oaths  ? 
Your  stage-plays    and  your  sonnets,  your  diamonds    and   your 

spades  ? 

Down,  down,  for  ever  down  with  the  mitre  and  the  crown, 
With  the  Belial  of  the  Court,  and  the  Mammon  of  the  Pope  ; 
There  is  woe  in  Oxford  halls  ;  there  is  wail  in  Durham  stalls  :  55 
The  Jesuit  smites  his  bosom  :  the  Bishop  rends  his  cope. 

And  she  of  the  seven  hills  shall  mourn  her  children's  ills, 
And  tremble  when  she  thinks  on  the  edge  of  England's  sword  ; 
And  the  Kings  of  earth  in  fear  shall  shudder  when  they  hear 
What  the  hand  of  God  hath  wrought  for  the  Houses  and  the 


Word. 


60 


JOHN    HENRY    NEWMAN 

1801-1890 

LEAD    KINDLY   LIGHT 

Lead  kindly  light,  amid  th'  encircling  gloom. 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ; 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home ; 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ; 
Keep  Thou  my  feet  ;   I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step  enough  for  me. 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 
Shouldst  lead  me  on  ; 


ELIZABETH    BARRETT   BROWNING  28 1 

I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path ;  but  now 

Lead  Thou  me  on  !  lo 

I  loved  the  garish  day,  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will.     Remember  not  past  years  ! 

So  long  Thy  Power  hath  blessed  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till  15 

The  night  is  gone. 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile. 


ELIZABETH    BARRETT    BROWNING 

1806-1861 

SONNETS    FROM    THE    PORTUGUESE 

XXII 

When  our  two  souls  stand  up  erect  and  strong, 

Face  to  face,  silent,  drawing  nigh  and  nigher, 

Until  the  lengthening  wings  break  into  fire 

At  either  curved  point,  —  What  bitter  wrong 

Can  the  earth  do  to  us,  that  we  should  not  long 

Be  here  contented  ?     Think.     In  mounting  higher. 

The  angels  would  press  on  us,  and  aspire 

To  drop  some  golden  orb  of  perfect  song 

Into  our  deep,  dear  silence.     Let  us  stay 

Rather  on  earth.  Beloved,  —  where  the  unfit, 

Contrarious  moods  of  men  recoil  away 

And  isolate  pure  spirits,  and  permit 

A  place  to  stand  and  love  in  for  a  day, 

With  darkness  and  the  death-hour  rounding  it. 


282  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

XLIII 

How  do  I  love  thee  ?     Let  me  count  the  ways. 

I  love  thee  to  the  depth  and  breadth  and  height 

My  soul  can  reach,  when  feeling  out  of  sight 

For  the  ends  of  Being  and  Ideal  Grace. 

I  love  thee  to  the  level  of  every  day's 

Most  quiet  need,  by  sun  and  candlelight. 

I  love  thee  freely,  as  men  strive  for  Right ; 

I  love  thee  purely,  as  they  turn  from  Praise  ; 

I  love  thee  with  the  passion  put  to  use 

In  my  old  griefs,  and  with  my  childhood's  faith ; 

I  love  thee  with  a  love  I  seemed  to  lose 

With  my  lost  saints,  —  I  love  thee  with  the  breath, 

Smiles,  tears,  of  all  my  life  !  —  and,  if  God  choose, 

I  shall  but  love  thee  better  after  death. 


A  MUSICAL  INSTRUMENT 

What  was  he  doing,  the  great  God  Pan, 

Down  in  the  reeds  by  the  river  ? 
Spreading  ruin  and  scattering  ban, 
Splashing  and  paddling  with  hoofs  of  a  goat. 
And  breaking  the  golden  lilies  afloat 
With  the  dragon-fly  on  the  river. 

He  tore  out  a  reed,  the  great  God  Pan, 
From  the  deep  cool  bed  of  the  river  : 

The  limpid  water  turbidly  ran. 

And  the  broken  lilies  a-dying  lay, 

And  the  dragon-fly  had  fled  away, 
Ere  he  brought  it  out  of  the  river. 

High  on  the  shore  sat  the  great  God  Pan, 
While  turbidly  flowed  the  river  ; 


ELIZABETH   BARRETT  BROWNING  283 

And  hacked  and  hewed  as  a  great  God  can,  15 

With  his  hard  bleak  steel  at  the  patient  reed, 
Till  there  was  not  a  sign  of  the  leaf  indeed 
To  prove  it  fresh  from  the  river. 

He  cut  it  short,  did  the  great  God  Pan, 

(How  tall  it  stood  in  the  river  !  )  20 

Then  drew  the  pith,  like  the  heart  of  a  man. 
Steadily  from  the  outside  ring, 
And  notched  the  poor  dry  empty  thing 

In  holes,  as  he  sat  by  the  river. 

'This  is  the  way,'  laugh'd  the  great  God  Pan,  25 

(Laughed  while  he  sat  by  the  river,) 
'  The  only  way,  since  Gods  began 
To  make  sweet  music,  they  could  succeed.' 
Then  dropping  his  mouth  to  a  hole  in  the  reed, 

He  blew  in  power  by  the  river.  30 

Sweet,  sweet,  sweet,  O  Pan  ! 

Piercing  sweet  by  the  river ! 
Blinding  sweet,  O  great  God  Pan  ! 
The  sun  on  the  hill  forgot  to  die, 
And  the  lilies  revived,  and  the  dragon-fly  35 

Came  back  to  dream  on  the  river. 

Yet  half  a  beast  is  the  great  God  Pan, 

To  laugh  as  he  sits  by  the  river. 
Making  a  poet  out  of  a  man  : 

The  true  Gods  sigh  for  the  cost  and  pain,  —  40 

For  the  reed  which  grows  nevermore  again 

As  a  reed  with  the  reeds  in  the  river. 


284  THE   VICTORIAN  PERIOD 

ROBERT   BROWNING 

1812-1889 
SONG 

[From  Pippa  Passes\ 

The  year's  at  the  spring 

And  day's  at  the  morn  ; 

Morning's  at  seven  ; 

The  hillside's  dew-pearled; 

The  lark's  on  the  wing ;  5 

The  snail's  on  the  thorn : 

God's  in  his  heaven  — 

All's  right  with  the  world ! 

SOLILOQUY    OF    THE   SPANISH    CLOISTER 

Gr  —  R  —  R  —  there  go,  my  heart's  abhorrence  ! 

Water  your  damned  flower-pots,  do  ! 
If  hate  killed  men,  Brother  Lawrence, 

God's  blood,  would  not  mine  kill  you ! 
What  ?  your  myrtle-bush  wants  trimming  ?  5 

Oh,  that  rose  has  prior  claims  — 
Needs  its  leaden  vase  filled  brimming  ? 

Hell  dry  you  up  with  its  flames  ! 

At  the  meal  we  sit  together : 

Salve  tibi  !  I  must  hear  10 

Wise  talk  of  the  kind  of  weather, 

Sort  of  season,  time  of  year  : 
Not  a  plenteous  cork-crop :  scarcely 

Da7-e  we  hope  oak-galls,  I  doubt  : 
W/iat's  the  Latin  name  for  ^parsley '  ?  15 

What's  the  Greek  name  for  Swine's  Snout  ? 


BROWNING  285 

Whew  !  We'll  have  our  platter  burnished, 

Laid  with  care  on  our  own  shelf ! 
With  a  fire-new  spoon  we're  furnished, 

And  a  goblet  for  ourself,  20 

Rinsed  like  something  sacrificial 

Ere  'tis  fit  to  touch  our  chaps  — 
Marked  with  L  for  our  initial ! 

(He-he  !  There  his  lily  snaps  !  ) 

Saint,  forsooth  !  While  brown  Dolores  25 

Squats  outside  the  Convent  bank 
With  Sanchicha,  telling  stories. 

Steeping  tresses  in  the  tank, 
Blue-black,  lustrous,  thick  like  horsehairs, 

—  Can't  I  see  his  dead  eye  glow,  30 

Bright  as  'twere  a  Barbary  corsair's  ? 

(That  is,  if  he'd  let  it  show  !  ) 

When  he  finishes  refection. 

Knife  and  fork  he  never  lays 
Cross-wise,  to  my  recollection,  35 

As  do  I,  in  Jesu's  praise. 
I  the  Trinity  illustrate, 

Drinking  watered  orange-pulp  — 
In  three  sips  the  Arian  frustrate  ; 

While  he  drains  his  atone  gulp.  40 

Oh,  those  melons  !  If  he's  able 

We're  to  have  a  feast !  so  nice  ! 
One  goes  to  the  Abbot's  table. 

All  of  us  get  each  a  slice. 
How  go  on  your  flowers  ?  None  double  ?  45 

Not  one  fruit-sort  can  you  spy  ? 
Strange!  —  And  I,  too,  at  such  trouble 

Keep  them  close-nipped  on  the  sly  ! 


286  THK   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

There's  a  great  text  in  Galatians, 

Once  you  trip  on  it,  entails  50 

Twenty-nine  distinct  damnations, 

One  sure,  if  another  fails  : 
If  I  trip  him  just  a-dying, 

Sure  of  heaven  as  sure  can  be, 
Spin  him  round  and  send  him  flying  55 

Off  to  hell,  a  Manichee  ? 

Or,  my  scrofulous  French  novel 

On  gray  paper  with  blunt  type  ! 
Simply  glance  at  it,  you  grovel 

Hand  and  foot  in  Belial's  gripe  :  60 

If  I  double  down  its  pages 

At  the  woeful  sixteenth  print, 
When  he  gathers  his  greengages. 

Ope  a  sieve  and  slip  it  in't  ? 

Or,  there's  Satan  !  —  one  might  venture  65 

Pledge  one's  soul  to  him,  yet  leave 
Such  a  flaw  in  the  indenture 

As  he'd  miss  till  past  retrieve. 
Blasted  lay  that  rose-acacia 

We're  so  proud  of  !  Hy,  Zy,  Hine.  .  ,  70 

'St,  there's  Vespers  !  Plena  gratia, 

Ave,  Virgo  I  Gr  —  r  —  r  —  you  swine  ! 


MY  LAST    DUCHESS 

FERRARA 

That's  my  last  Duchess  painted  on  the  wall, 
Looking  as  if  she  were  alive.     I  call 
That  piece  a  wonder,  now  :   Fra  Pandolf's  hands 
Worked  busily  a  day,  and  there  she  stands. 


BROWNING  287 

Will't  please  you  sit  and  look  at  her  ?     I  said  5 

'  Fra  Pandolf '  by  design,  for  never  read 

Strangers  like  you  that  pictured  countenance, 

The  depth  and  passion  of  its  earnest  glance, 

But  to  myself  they  turned  (since  none  puts  by 

The  curtain  I  have  drawn  for  you,  but  I)  10 

And  seemed  as  they  would  ask  me,  if  they  durst, 

How  such  a  glance  came  there  ;  so,  not  the  first 

Are  you  to  turn  and  ask  thus.     Sir,  'twas  not 

Her  husband's  presence  only,  called  that  spot 

Of  joy  into  the  Duchess'  cheek :  perhaps  15 

Fra  Pandolf  chanced  to  say,  '  Her  mantle  laps 

Over  my  lady's  wrist  too  much,'  or  '  Paint 

Must  never  hope  to  reproduce  the  faint 

Half-flush  that  dies  along  her  throat  : '  such  stuff 

Was  courtesy,  she  thought,  and  cause  enough  20 

For  calling  up  that  spot  of  joy.     She  had 

A  heart  —  how  shall  I  say  ?  —  too  soon  made  glad, 

Too  easily  impressed  :  she  liked  whate'er 

She  looked  on,  and  her  looks  went  everywhere. 

Sir,  'twas  all  one  !     My  favor  at  her  breast,  25 

The  dropping  of  the  daylight  in  the  West, 

The  bough  of  cherries  some  officious  fool 

Broke  in  the  orchard  for  her,  the  white  mule 

She  rode  with  round  the  terrace  —  all  and  each 

Would  draw  from  her  alike  the  approving  speech,  30 

Or  blush,  at  least.     She  thanked  men, — good!  but  thanked 

Somehow  -^  I  know  not  how  —  as  if  she  ranked 

My  gift  of  a  nine-hundred-years-old  name 

With  anybody's  gift.     Who'd  stoop  to  blame 

This  sort  of  trifling  ?     Even  had  you  skill  35 

In  speech  —  (which  I  have  not)  —  to  make  your  will 

Quite  clear  to  such  an  one,  and  say,  '  Just  this 

Or  that  in  you  disgusts  me  ;  here  you  miss, 

Or  there  exceed  the  mark  '  —  and  if  she  let 


288  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Herself  be  lessoned  so,  nor  plainly  set  40 

Her  wits  to  yours,  forsooth,  and  made  excuse, 

—  E'en  then  would  be  some  stooping  ;  and  I  choose 

Never  to  stoop.     Oh,  sir,  she  smiled,  no  doubt. 

Whene'er  I  passed  her  ;  but  who  passed  without 

Much  the  same  smile?     This  grew  ;  I  gave  commands  ;        ^5 

Then  all  smiles  stopped  together.     There  she  stands 

As  if  alive.     Will't  please  you  rise  ?     We'll  meet 

The  company  below,  then.     I  repeat, 

The  Count  your  master's  known  munificence 

Is  ample  warrant  that  no  just  pretence  50 

Of  mine  for  dowry  will  be  disallowed  ; 

Though  his  fair  daughter's  self,  as  I  avowed 

At  starting,  is  my  object.     Nay,  we'll  go 

Together  down,  sir.     Notice  Neptune,  though, 

Taming  a  sea-horse,  thought  a  rarity,  55 

Which  Glaus  of  Innsbruck  cast  in  bronze  for  me  I 


CHILDE  ROLAND  TO  THE  DARK  TOWER  CAME' 

My  first  thought  was,  he  lied  in  every  word, 

That  hoary  cripple,  with  malicious  eye 

Askance  to  watch  the  working  of  his  lie 
On  mine,  and  mouth  scarce  able  to  afford 
Suppression  of  the  glee,  that  pursed  and  scored  5 

Its  edge,  at  one  more  victim  gained  thereby. 

What  else  should  he  be  set  for,  with  his  staff  ? 
What,  save  to  waylay  with  his  lies,  ensnare 
All  travelers  who  might  find  him  posted  there. 
And  ask  the  road  ?     I  guessed  what  skull-like  laugh  10 

Would  break,  what  crutch   'gin  write  my  epitaph 
For  pastime  in  the  dusty  thoroughfare. 


BROWNING  289 

If  at  his  counsel  I  should  turn  aside 

Into  that  ominous  tract  which,  all  agree, 

Hides  the  Dark  Tower.     Yet  acquiescingly  15 

I  did  turn  as  he  pointed  :  neither  pride 
Nor  hope  rekindling  at  the  end  descried, 

So  much  as  gladness  that  some  end  might  be. 

For,  what  with  my  whole  world-wide  wandering. 

What  with  my  search  drawn  out  through  years,  my  hope  20 
Dwindled  into  a  ghost  not  fit  to  cope 

With  that  obstreperous  joy  success  would  bring,  — 

I  hardly  tried  now  to  rebuke  the  spring 
My  heart  made,  finding  failure  in  its  scope. 

As  when  a  sick  man  very  near  to  death  25 

Seems  dead  indeed,  and  feels  begin  and  end 
The  tears,  and  takes  the  farewell  of  each  friend, 

And  hears  one  bid  the  other  go,  draw  breath, 

FreeUer  outside,  ('  since  all  is  o'er,'  he  saith, 

'  And  the  blow  fallen  no  grieving  can  amend  ; ')  30 

While  some  discuss  if  near  the  other  graves 

Be  room  enough  for  this,  and  when  a  day 

Suits  best  for  carrying  the  corpse  away, 
With  care  about  the  banners,  scarves,  and  staves : 
And  still  the  man  hears  all,  and  only  craves  35 

He  may  not  shame  such  tender  love  and  stay. 

Thus,  I  had  so  long  suffered  in  this  quest, 
Heard  failure  prophesied  so  oft,  been  writ 
So  many  times  among  '  The  Band  '  —  to  wit, 
The  knights  who  to  the  Dark  Tower's  search  addressed    40 
Their  steps — that  just  to  fail  as  they,  seemed  best, 
And  all  the  doubt  was  now  —  should  I  be  fit  ? 

So,  quiet  as  despair,  I  turned  from  him. 
That  hateful  cripple,  out  of  his  highway 

KNC.    POKMS 19 


290  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Into  the  path  he  pointed.     All  the  day  45 

Had  been  a  dreary  one  at  best,  and  dim 
•   Was  settling  to  its  close,  yet  shot  one  grim 
Red  leer  to  see  the  plain  catch  its  astray. 

For  mark  !  no  sooner  was  I  fairly  found 

Pledged  to  the  plain,  after  a  pace  or  two,  50 

Than,  pausing  to  throw  backward  a  last  view 

O'er  the  safe  road,  'twas  gone  ;    gray  plain  all  round : 

Nothing  but  plain  to  the  horizon's  bound. 
I  might  go  on  ;  nought  else  remained  to  do. 


55 


So,  on  I  went.     I  think  I  never  saw 

Such  starved  ignoble  nature  ;  nothing  throve : 
For  flowers  —  as  well  expect  a  cedar  grove  ! 
But  cockle,  spurge,  according  to  their  law 
Might  propagate  their  kind,  with  none  to  awe, 

You'd  think :  a  burr  had  been  a  treasure  trove.  60 

No  !  penury,  inertness,  and  grimace, 

In  some  strange  sort,  were  the  land's  portion.     '  See 
Or  shut  your  eyes,'  said  Nature  peevishly, 

'  It  nothing  skills  ;   I  cannot  help  my  case  : 

'Tis  the  Last  Judgment's  fire  must  cure  this  place,  65 

Calcine  its  clods  and  set  my  prisoners  free.' 

If  there  pushed  any  ragged  thistle-stalk 

Above  its  mates,  the  head  was  chopped  ;  the  bents 
Were  jealous  else.     What  made  those  holes  and  rents 
In  the  dock's  harsh  swarth  leaves,  bruised  as  to  balk  70 

All  hope  of  greenness  ?  'tis  a  brute  must  walk 
Pashing  their  life  out,  with  a  brute's  intents. 

As  for  the  grass,  it  grew  as  scant  as  hair 

In  leprosy  ;    thin  dry  blades  pricked  the  mud 

Which  underneath  looked  kneaded  up  with  blood.  75 


BROWNING  291 

One  stiff  blind  horse,  his  every  bone  a-stare, 
Stood  stupefied,  however  he  came  there  : 

Thrust  out  past  service  from  the  devil's  stud  1 

Alive  ?  he  might  be  dead  for  aught  I  know, 

With  that  red  gaunt  and  colloped  neck  a-strain,  80 

And  shut  eyes  underneath  the  rusty  mane  ; 

Seldom  went  such  grotesqueness  with  such  woe  ; 

I  never  saw  a  brute  I  hated  so  ; 

He  must  be  wicked  to  deserve  such  pain. 

I  shut  my  eyes  and  turned  them  on  my  heart.  85 

As  a  man  calls  for  wine  before  he  fights, 
I  ask  one  draught  of  earlier,  happier  sights, 

Ere  fitly  I  could  hope  to  play  my  part. 

Think  first,  fight  afterward  —  the  soldier's  art : 

One  taste  of  the  old  time  sets  all  to  rights.  go 

Not  it !     I  fancied  Cuthbert's  reddening  face 

Beneath  its  garniture  of  curly  gold, 

Dear  fellow,  till  I  almost  felt  him  fold 
An  arm  in  mine  to  fix  me  to  the  place, 
That  way  he  used.     Alas,  one  night's  disgrace  !  95 

Out  went  my  heart's  new  fire  and  left  it  cold. 

Giles  then,  the  soul  of  honor  —  there  he  stands 
Frank  as  ten  years  ago  when  knighted  first. 
When  honest  man  should  dare  (he  said)  he  durst.  gg 

Good — but  the  scene  shifts — faugh  !  what  hangman  hands 
Pin  to  his  breast  a  parchment  ?     His  own  bands 
Read  it.     Poor  traitor,  spit  upon  and  curst ! 

Better  this  present  than  a  past  like  that ; 

Back  therefore  to  my  darkening  path  again  ! 

No  sound,  no  sight  as  far  as  eye  could  strain.  105 

Will  the  niffht  send  a  howlet  or  a  bat  ? 


292  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

I  ask  :  when  something  on  the  dismal  flat 

Came  to  arrest  my  thoughts  and  change  their  train. 

A  sudden  Uttle  river  crossed  my  path 

As  unexpected  as  a  serpent  comes.  no 

No  sluggish  tide  congenial  to  the  glooms  ; 
This,  as  it  frothed  by,  might  have  been  a  bath 
For  the  fiend's  glowing  hoof  —  to  see  the  wrath 
Of  its  black  eddy  bespate  with  flakes  and  spumes. 

So  petty  yet  so  spiteful !     All  along,  115 

Low  scrubby  alders  kneeled  down  over  it ; 
Drenched  willows  flung  them  headlong  in  a  fit 
Of  mute  despair,  a  suicidal  throng : 
The  river  which  had  done  them  all  the  wrong, 

Whate'er  that  was,  rolled  by,  deterred  no  whit.  120 

Which,  while  I  forded,  —  good  saints,  how  I  feared 
To  set  my  foot  upon  a  dead  man's  cheek. 
Each  step,  or  feel  the  spear  I  thrust  to  seek 

For  hollows,  tangled  in  his  hair  or  beard  ! 

—  It  may  have  been  a  water-rat  I  speared,  125 

But,  ugh  !  it  sounded  like  a  baby's  shriek. 

Glad  was  I  when  I  reached  the  other  bank. 

Now  for  a  better  country.     Vain  presage  ! 

Who  were  the  strugglers,  what  war  did  they  wage 
Whose  savage  trample  thus  could  pad  the  dank  130 

Soil  to  a  plash  ?     Toads  in  a  poisoned  tank. 

Or  wild  cats  in  a  red-hot  iron  cage  — 

The  fight  must  so  have  seemed  in  that  fell  cirque. 

What  penned  them  there,  with  all  the  plain  to  choose  ? 

No  footprint  leading  to  that  horrid  mews,  135 

None  out  of  it.     Mad  brewage  set  to  work 
Their  brains,  no  doubt,  like  galley-slaves  the  Turk 

Pits  for  his  pastime.  Christians  against  Jews. 


BROWNING  293 

And  more  than  that  —  a  furlong  on  —  why,  there  ! 

What  bad  use  was  that  engine  for,  that  wheel,  140 

Or  brake,  not  wheel  —  that  harrow  fit  to  reel 

Men's  bodies  out  like  silk  ?  with  all  the  air 

Of  Tophet's  tool,  on  earth  left  unaware, 

Or  brought  to  sharpen  its  rusty  teeth  of  steel. 

Then  came  a  bit  of  stubbed  ground,  once  a  wood,  145 

Next  a  marsh,  it  would  seem,  and  now  mere  earth 
Desperate  and  done  with  :  (so  a  fool  finds  mirth, 

Makes  a  thing  and  then  mars  it,  till  his  mood 

Changes  and  off  he  goes  !  )  within  a  rood  — 

Bog,  clay,  and  rubble,  sand  and  stark  black  dearth.       150 

Now  blotches  rankling,  colored  gay  and  grim, 
Now  patches  where  some  leanness  of  the  soil's 
Broke  into  moss  or  substances  like  boils ; 

Then  came  some  palsied  oak,  a  cleft  in  him 

Like  a  distorted  mouth  that  splits  its  rim  155 

Gaping  at  death,  and  dies  while  it  recoils. 

'And  just  as  far  as  ever  from  the  end  ! 

Naught  in  the  distance  but  the  evening,  naught 
To  point  my  footstep  further  !     At  the  thought, 
A  great  black  bird,  Apollyon's  bosom-friend,  160 

Sailed  past,  nor  beat  his  wide  wing  dragon-penned 

That  brushed  my  cap  —  perchance  the  guide  I  sought. 

For,  looking  up,  aware  I  somehow  grew, 

Spite  of  the  dusk,  the  plain  had  given  place 

All  round  to  mountains  —  with  such  name  to  grace        165 

Mere  ugly  heights  and  heaps  now  stolen  in  view. 

How  thus  they  had  surprised  me, —  solve  it,  you  ! 
How  to  get  from  them  was  no  clearer  case. 

Yet  half  I  seemed  to  recognize  some  trick 

Of  mischief  happened  to  me,  God  knows  when  —  170 


294  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

In  a  bad  dream,  perhaps.     Here  ended,  then, 
Progress  this  way.     When  in  the  very  nick 
Of  giving  up,  one  time  more,  came  a  click 

As  when  a  trap  shuts  —  you're  inside  the  den ! 

Burningly  it  came  on  me  all  at  once,  175 

This  was  the  place  !  those  two  hills  on  the  right. 
Crouched  like  two  bulls  locked  horn  in  horn  in  fight ; 

While  to  the  left,  a  tall  scalped  mountain  .  .  .  Dunce  ? 

Dotard,  a-dozing  at  the  very  nonce. 

After  a  life  spent  training  for  the  sight !  180 

What  in  the  midst  lay  but  the  Tower  itself  ? 

The  round  squat  turret,  blind  as  the  fool's  heart, 
Built  of  brown  stone,  without  a  counterpart 
In  the  whole  world.     The  tempest's  mocking  elf 
Points  to  the  shipman  thus  the  unseen  shelf  185 

He  strikes  on,  only  when  the  timbers  start. 

Not  see  ?  because  of  night  perhaps  ?  —  why,  day 
Came  back  again  for  that !  before  it  left. 
The  dying  sunset  kindled  through  a  cleft : 
The  hills,  like  giants  at  a  hunting  lay,  190 

Chin  upon  hand,  to  see  the  game  at  bay,  — 

'  Now  stab  and  end  the  creature  —  to  the  heft ! ' 

Not  hear  ?  when  noise  was  everywhere  !  it  tolled 
Increasing  like  a  bell.     Names  in  my  ears 
Of  all  the  lost  adventurers  my  peers,  —  195 

How  such  a  one  was  strong,  and  such  was  bold. 

And  such  was  fortunate,  yet  each  of  old 

Lost,  lost !  one  moment  knelled  the  woe  of  years. 

There  they  stood,  ranged  along  the  hillsides,  met 

To  view  the  last  of  me,  a  living  frame  200 

For  one  more  picture  !  in  a  sheet  of  flame 

I  saw  them  and  I  knew  them  all.     And  yet 


BROWNING  295 

Dauntless  the  slug-horn  to  my  lips  I  set, 

And  blew.     '  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came' 


ANDREA    DEL    SARTO 

CALLED    '  THE    FAULTLESS    PAINTER  ' 

But  do  not  let  us  quarrel  any  more, 

No,  my  Lucrezia  ;  bear  with  me  for  once  : 

Sit  down  and  all  shall  happen  as  you  wish. 

You  turn  your  face,  but  does  it  bring  your  heart  ? 

I'll  work  then  for  your  friend's  friend,  never  fear,  5 

Treat  his  own  subject  after  his  own  way. 

Fix  his  own  time,  accept  too  his  own  price, 

And  shut  the  money  into  this  small  hand 

When  next  it  takes  mine.     Will  it  ?  tenderly  ? 

Oh,  I'll  content  him,  — but  to-morrow,  Love  1  10 

I  often  am  much  wearier  than  you  think, 

This  evening  more  than  usual,  and  it  seems 

As  if  —  forgive  now  —  should  you  let  me  sit 

Here  by  the  window  with  your  hand  in  mine 

And  look  a  half  hour  forth  on  Fiesole,  15 

Both  of  one  mind,  as  married  people  use, 

Quietly,  quietly  the  evening  through, 

I  might  get  up  to-morrow  to  my  work 

Cheerful  and  fresh  as  ever.     Let  us  try. 

To-morrow,  how  shall  you  be  glad  of  this  !  20 

Your  soft  hand  is  a  woman  of  itself. 

And  mine  the  man's  bared  breast  she  curls  inside. 

Don't  count  the  time  lost,  neither;  you  must  serve 

For  each  of  the  five  pictures  we  require  : 

It  saves  a  model.     So  !  keep  looking  so  —  25 

My  serpentining  beauty,  rounds  on  rounds  ! 

—  How  could  you  ever  prick  those  perfect  ears. 

Even  to  put  the  pearl  there  !  oh,  so  sweet—- 


30 


35 


296  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

My  face,  my  moon,  my  everybody's  moon, 
Which  everybody  looks  on  and  calls  his, 
And,  I  suppose,  is  looked  on  by  in  turn. 
While  she  looks  —  no  one's  :  very  dear,  no  less. 
You  smile  ?  why,  there's  my  picture  ready  made. 
There's  what  we  painters  call  our  harmony ! 
A  common  grayness  silvers  every  thing, — 
All  in  a  twilight,  you  and  I  alike 

—  You,  at  the  point  of  your  first  pride  in  me 
(That's  gone,  you  know),  —  but  I,  at  every  point; 
My  youth,  my  hope,  my  art,  being  all  toned  down 

To  yonder  sober  pleasant  Fiesole.  40 

There's  the  bell  clinking  from  the  chapel-top  ; 

That  length  of  convent-wall  across  the  way 

Holds  the  trees  safer,  huddled  more  inside  ; 

The  last  monk  leaves  the  garden  ;  days  decrease. 

And  autumn  grows,  autumn  in  every  thing.  ^5 

Eh  ?  the  whole  seems  to  fall  into  a  shape 

As  if  1  saw  alike  my  work  and  self 

And  all  that  I  was  born  to  be  and  do, 

A  twilight-peace.     Love,  we  are  in  God's  hand. 

How  strange  now  looks  the  life  he  makes  us  lead ;  50 

So  free  we  seem,  so  fettered  fast  we  are  ! 

I  feel  he  laid  the  fetter  :  let  it  lie ! 

This  chamber  for  example  —  turn  your  head  — 

All  that's  behind  us  !     You  don't  understand 

Nor  care  to  understand  about  my  art,  55 

But  you  can  hear  at  least  when  people  speak : 

And  that  cartoon,  the  second  from  the  door 

—  It  is  the  thing.  Love  !  so  such  things  should  be  — 
Behold  Madonna  !  —  I  am  bold  to  say. 

I  can  do  with  my  pencil  what  I  know,  60 

What  I  see,  what  at  bottom  of  my  heart 
I  wish  for,  if  I  ever  wish  so  deep  — 
Do  easilv,  too  —  when  I  say,  perfectly, 


BROWNING  297 

I  do  not  boast,  perhaps  :  yourself  are  judge 

Who  listened  to  the  Legate's  talk  last  week,  65 

And  just  as  much  they  used  to  say  in  France. 

At  any  rate  'tis  easy,  all  of  it ! 

No  sketches  first,  no  studies,  that's  long  past: 

I  do  what  many  dream  of  all  their  lives, 

—  Dream  ?  strive  to  do,  and  agonize  to  do,  70 

And  fail  in  doing.     I  could  count  twenty  such 

On  twice  your  fingers,  and  not  leave  this  town. 

Who  strive  —  you  don't  know  how  the  others  strive 

To  paint  a  little  thing  like  that  you  smeared 

Carelessly  passing  with  your  robes  afloat,  —  75 

Yet  do  much  less,  so  much  less.  Someone  says, 

(I  know  his  name,  no  matter)  —  so  much  less  ! 

Well,  less  is  more,  Lucrezia  :  I  am  judged. 

There  burns  a  truer  light  of  God  in  them. 

In  their  vexed  beating  stuffed  and  stopped-up  brain,  so 

Heart,  or  whate'er  else,  than  goes  on  to  prompt 

This  low-pulsed  forthright  craftsman's  hand  of  mine. 

Their  works  drop  groundward,  but  themselves,  I  know, 

Reach  many  a  time  a  heaven  that's  shut  to  me. 

Enter  and  take  their  place  there  sure  enough,  85 

Though  they  come  back  and  cannot  tell  the  world. 

My  works  are  nearer  heaven,  but  I  sit  here. 

The  sudden  blood  of  these  men  !  at  a  word  — 

Praise  them,  it  boils,  or  blame  them,  it  boils  too. 

I,  painting  from  myself  and  to  myself,  90 

Know  what  I  do,  am  unmoved  by  men's  blame 

Or  their  praise  either.     Somebody  remarks 

Morello's  outline  there  is  wrongly  traced. 

His  hue  mistaken  ;  what  of  that  ?  or  else, 

Rightly  traced  and  well  ordered  ;  what  of  that  ?  95 

Speak  as  they  please,  what  does  the  mountain  care  ? 

Ah,  but  a  man's  reach  should  exceed  his  grasp, 

Or  what's  a  heaven  for  ?     All  is  silver-gray 


298  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Placid  and  perfect  with  my  art :  the  worse  ! 

I  know  both  what  I  want  and  what  might  gain,  100 

And  yet  how  profitless  to  know,  to  sigh 

'  Had  I  been  two,  another  and  myself, 

Our  head  might  have  o'erlooked  the  world  !  '     No  doubt. 

Yonder's  a  work  now,  of  that  famous  youth 

The  Urbinate  who  died  five  years  ago.  105 

('Tis  copied,  George  Vasari  sent  it  me.) 

Well,  I  can  fancy  how  he  did  it  all, 

Pouring  his  soul,  with  kings  and  popes  to  see, 

Reaching,  that  heaven  might  so  replenish  him, 

Above  and  through  his  art  —  for  it  gives  way  ;  no 

That  arm  is  wrongly  put  —  and  there  again  — 

A  fault  to  pardon  in  the  drawing's  lines, 

Its  body,  so  to  speak :  its  soul  is  right. 

He  means  right  —  that,  a  child  may  understand. 

Still,  what  an  arm  !  and  I  could  alter  it :  115 

But  all  the  play,  the  insight  and  the  stretch  — 

Out  of  me,  out  of  me  !     And  wherefore  out  ? 

Had  you  enjoined  them  on  me,  given  \ne  soul, 

We  might  have  risen  to  Rafael,  I  and  you  ! 

Nay,  Love,  you  did  give  all  I  asked,  I  think  —  120 

More  than  I  merit,  yes,  by  many  times. 

But  had  you  —  oh,  with  the  same  perfect  brow, 

And  perfect  eyes,  and  more  than  perfect  mouth, 

And  the  low  voice  my  soul  hears,  as  a  bird 

The  fowler's  pipe,  and  follows  to  the  snare  —  125 

Had  you,  with  these  the  same,  but  brought  a  mind ! 

Some  women  do  so.     Had  the  mouth  there  urged 

'God  and  the  glory!  never  care  for  gain. 

The  present  by  the  future,  what  is  that  ? 

Live  for  fame,  side  by  side  with  Agnolo  !  130 

Rafael  is  waiting :  up  to  God,  all  three  !  ' 

I  might  have  done  it  for  you.     So  it  seems : 

Perhaps  not.     All  is  as  God  overrules. 


BROWNING  299 

Beside,  incentives  come  from  the  soul's  self  ; 

The  rest  avail  not.     Why  do  I  need  you  ?  135 

What  wife  had  Rafael,  or  has  Agnolo  ? 

In  this  world,  who  can  do  a  thing,  will  not ; 

And  who  would  do  it,  cannot,  I  perceive  : 

Yet  the  will's  somewhat — somewhat,  too,  the  power  — 

And  thus  we  half-men  struggle.     At  the  end,  140 

God,  I  conclude,  compensates,  punishes. 

'Tis  safer  for  me,  if  the  award  be  strict. 

That  I  am  something  underrated  here. 

Poor  this  long  while,  despised,  to  speak  the  truth. 

I  dared  not,  do  you  know,  leave  home  all  day,  145 

For  fear  of  chancing  on  the  Paris  lords. 

The  best  is  when  they  pass  and  look  aside  ; 

But  they  speak  sometimes  ;  I  must  bear  it  all. 

Well  may  they  speak  !     That  Francis,  that  first  time. 

And  that  long  festal  year  at  Fontainebleau  !  150 

I  surely  then  could  sometimes  leave  the  ground, 

Put  on  the  glory,  Rafael's  daily  wear. 

In  that  humane  great  monarch's  golden  look,  — 

One  finger  in  his  beard  or  twisted  curl 

Over  his  mouth's  good  mark  that  made  the  smile,  155 

One  arm  about  my  shoulder,  round  my  neck, 

The  jingle  of  his  gold  chain  in  my  ear, 

I  painted  proudly  with  his  breath  on  me. 

All  his  court  round  me,  seeing  with  his  eyes. 

Such  frank  French  eyes,  and  such  a  fire  of  souls  160 ' 

Profuse,  my  hand  kept  plying  by  those  hearts,  — 

And,  best  of  all,  this,  this,  this  face  beyond, 

This  in  the  background,  waiting  on  my  work. 

To  crown  the  issue  with  a  last  reward  ! 

A  good  time,  was  it  not,  my  kingly  days  ?  165 

And  had  you  not  grown  restless  .  .  .  but  I  know  — 

'Tis  done  and  past ;   'twas  right,  my  instinct  said  ; 

Too  live  the  life  grew,  golden  and  not  gray. 


300  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

And  I'm  the  weak-eyed  bat  no  sun  should  tempt 

Out  of  the  grange  whose  four  walls  make  his  world.  170 

How  could  it  end  in  any  other  way  ? 

You  called  me,  and  I  came  home  to  your  heart. 

The  triumph  was  —  to  reach  and  stay  there ;  since, 

I  reached  it  ere  the  triumph,  what  is  lost  ? 

Let  my  hands  frame  your  face  in  your  hair's  gold,  175 

You  beautiful  Lucrezia  that  are  mine  ! 

'  Rafael  did  this,  Andrea  painted  that ; 

The  Roman's  is  the  better  when  you  pray, 

But  still  the  other's  Virgin  was  his  wife  '  — 

Men  will  excuse  me.     I  am  glad  to  judge  180 

Both  pictures  in  your  presence  ;  clearer  grows 

My  better  fortune,  I  resolve  to  think. 

For,  do  you  know,  Lucrezia,  as  God  lives, 

Said  one  day  Agnolo,  his  very  self. 

To  Rafael  ...  I  have  known  it  all  these  years  ...        185 

(When  the  young  man  was  flaming  out  his  thoughts 

Upon  a  palace-wall  for  Rome  to  see, 

Too  "lifted  up  in  heart  because  of  it) 

'  Friend,  there's  a  certain  sorry  little  scrub 

Goes  up  and  down  our  Florence,  none  cares  how,  190 

Who,  were  he  set  to  plan  and  execute 

As  you  are,  pricked  on  by  your  popes  and  kings. 

Would  bring  the  sweat  into  that  brow  of  yours ! ' 

To  Rafael's  !  — And  indeed  the  arm  is  wrong. 

I  hardly  dare  .  .  .  yet,  only  you  to  see,  195 

Give  the  chalk  here  — quick,  thus  the  line  should  go  ! 

Ay,  but  the  soul !  he's  Rafael  !  rub  it  out ! 

Still,  all  I  care  for,  if  he  spoke  the  truth, 

(What  he  ?  why,  who  but  Michel  Agnolo  ? 

Do  you  forget  already  w'ords  like  those  ?)  200 

If  really  there  was  such  a  chance,  so  lost,  — 

Is,  whether  you're  —  not  grateful  —  but  more  pleased. 

Well,  let  me  think  so.     And  you  smile  indeed  ! 


BROWiNING  301 

This  hour  has  been  an  hour  !     Another  smile  ? 

If  you  would  sit  thus  by  me  every  night  205 

l"  should  work  better,  do  you  comprehend  ? 

I  mean  that  I  should  earn  more,  give  you  more. 

See,  it  is  settled  dusk  now  ;  there's  a  star ; 

Morello's  gone,  the  watch-lights  show  the  wall. 

The  cue-owls  speak  the  name  we  call  them  by.  210 

Come  from  the  window,  love,  —  come  in,  at  last. 

Inside  the  melancholy  little  house 

We  built  to  be  so  gay  with.     God  is  just. 

King  Francis  may  forgive  me:  oft  at  nights 

When  I  look  up  from  painting,  eyes  tired  out,  215 

The  walls  become  illumined,  brick  by  brick 

Distinct,  instead  of  mortar,  fierce  bright  gold, 

That  gold  of  his  I  did  cement  them  with ! 

Let  us  but  love  each  other.     Must  you  go  ? 

That  Cousin  here  again  ?  he  waits  outside  ?  220 

Must  see  you  — you,  and  not  with  me  ?     Those  loans? 

More  gaming  debts  to  pay  ?  you  smiled  for  that  ? 

Well,  let  smiles  buy  me  !  have  you  more  to  spend  ? 

While  hand  and  eye  and  something  of  a  heart 

Are  left  me,  work's  my  ware,  and  what's  it  worth  ?  225 

I'll  pay  my  fancy.     Only  let  me  sit 

The  gray  remainder  of  the  evening  out, 

Idle,  you  call  it,  and  muse  perfectly 

How  I  could  paint,  were  I  but  back  in  France, 

One  picture,  just  one  more  —  the  Virgin's  face,  23c 

Not  yours  this  time  !  I  want  you  at  my  side 

To  hear  them  — that  is,  Michel  Agnolo  — 

Judge  all  I  do  and  tell  you  of  its  worth. 

Will  you  ?     To-morrow,  satisfy  your  friend. 

I  take  the  subjects  for  his  corridor,  235 

Finish  the  portrait  out  of  hand  —  there,  there, 

And  throw  him  another  thing  or  two 

If  he  demurs  ;  the  whole  shall  prove  enough 


302  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

To  pay  for  this  same  Cousin's  freak.     Beside, 

What's  better  and  what's  all  I  care  about,  240 

Get  you  the  thirteen  scudi  for  the  ruff ! 

Love,  does  that  please  you  ?  Ah,  but  what  does  he 

The  Cousin  !   what  does  he  to  please  you  more  ? 

I  am  grown  peaceful  as  old  age  to-night. 
I  regret  little,  I  would  change  still  less.  245 

Since  that  my  past  life  lies,  why  alter  it  ? 
The  very  wrong  to  Francis  !  — it  is  true 
I  took  his  coin,  was  tempted  and  complied. 
And  built  this  house  and  sinned,  and  all  is  said. 
My  father  and  my  mother  died  of  want.  250 

Well,  had  I  riches  of  my  own  ?  you  see 
How  one  gets  rich  !  Let  each  one  bear  his  lot. 
They  were  born  poor,  lived  poor,  and  poor  they  died : 
And  I  have  labored  somewhat  in  my  time 
And  not  been  paid  profusely.     Some  good  son  255 

Paint  my  two  hundred  pictures  —  let  him  try  ! 
No  doubt,  there's  something  strikes  a  balance.     Yes, 
You  love  me  quite  enough,  it  seems  to-night. 
This  must  suffice  me  here.     What  would  one  have  ? 
In  heaven,  perhaps,  new  chances,  one  more  chance —      260 
Four  great  walls  in  the  New  Jerusalem, 
Meted  on  each  side  by  the  angel's  reed, 
For  Leonard,  Rafael,  Agnolo  and  me 
To  cover  —  the  three  first  without  a  wife. 
While  I  have  mine  !     So  —  still  they  overcome  265 

Because  there's  still  Lucrezia,  —  as  I  choose. 
Again  the  Cousin's  whistle  !     Go,  my  Love. 


BROWNING  303 

HERV6    KIEL 


On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred  ninety-two, 
Did  the  English  fight  the  French,  —  woe  to  France  ! 
And,  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  through  the  blue. 
Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of  sharks  pursue. 
Came  crowding  ship  on  ship  to  Saint  Malo  on  the  Ranee,  5 

With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 


'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,  with  the  victor  in  full  chase  ; 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great  ship,  Damfreville  ; 
Close  on  him  fled,  great  and  small, 

Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all ;  10 

And  they  signaled  to  the  place 
'  Help  the  winners  of  a  race  ! 

Get  us  guidance,  give  us  harbor,  take  us  quick  —  or,  quicker 
still, 
Here's  the  English  can  and  will ! ' 

III 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk  and  leapt  on  board  ;  15 
'  Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like  these  to  pass  ? ' 

laughed  they  : 
'  Rocks  to  starboard,  rocks  to  port,  all  the  passage  scarred 
and  scored, 
Shall  the  "  Formidable  "  here  with  her  twelve  and  eighty  guns 

Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single  narrow  way. 
Trust  to  enter  where  'tis  ticklish  for  a  craft  of  twenty  tons,       20 
And  with  flow  at  full  beside  ? 
Now  'tis  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  moorings  ?  Rather  say, 


304  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

While  rock  stands  or  water  runs, 

Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay  !  '  25 

IV 

Then  was  called  a  council  straight. 

Brief  and  bitter  the  debate  : 

'  Here's  the   English  at  our  heels ;  would   you  have  them  take 

in  tow 
z^ll  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern  and  bow, 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  Sound  ?  30 

Better  run  the  ships  aground  !  ' 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech). 
'  Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 

Let  the  Captains  all  and  each 

Shove  ashore,  then  blow  up,  burn  the  vessels  on  the  beach !  35 
France  must  undergo  her  fate. 


'  Give  the  word  !  '  But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard ; 

For  up  stood,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck  amid  all  these 
A  Captain  ?  A  Lieutenant  ?  A  Mate  —  first,  second,  third  ?         40 

No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 

With  his  betters  to  compete ! 

But  a  simple  Breton  sailor  pressed  by  Tourville  for  the  fleet, 
A  poor  coasting-pilot  he,  Herv6  Riel  the  Croisickese. 

VI 

And  '  What  mockery  or  malice  have  we    here  ? '  cries    Herve 
Riel :  45 

'  Are  you  mad,  you  Maluins?  Are  you  cowards,  fools,  or  rogues? 
Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals,  me  who  took  the  soundings,  tell 
On  my  fingers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every  swell 

'Twixt  the  offing  here  and  Gre  ve  where  the  river  disembogues  ? 
Are  you  bought  by  English  gold  ?  Is  it  love  the  lying's  for  ?       50 


BROWNING  305 

Morn  and  eve,  night  and  day, 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay. 
Entered  free  and  ancliored  fast  at  the  foot  of  Solidor. 

Burn  the  fleet  and  ruin  France  ?     That  were  worse  than  fifty 
Hogues  ! 
Sirs,  they  know  I  speak  the  truth  !     Sirs,beheve  me  there's 
a  way  !  5S 

Only  let  me  lead  the  line. 

Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer, 
Get  this  "  Formidable  "  clear, 
Make  the  others  follow  mine, 

And  I  lead  them,  most  and  least,  by  a  passage  I  know  well,      60 
Right  to  Solidor  past  Greve, 

And  there  lay  them  safe  and  sound  ; 
And  if  one  ship  misbehave, 
—  Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground. 
Why,  Fve  nothing  but  my  life,  —  here's  my  head  ! '  cries  Herv^ 
Kiel.  65 

VII 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait. 

'  Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great ! 

Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squadron  !  '  cried   its 
chief. 
Captains,  give  the  sailor  place  ! 

He  is  Admiral,  in  brief.  70 

Still  the  north-wind,  by  God's  grace  1 
See  the  noble  fellow's  face 
As  the  big  ship,  with  a  bound, 
Clears  the  entry  like  a  hound. 

Keeps  the  passage  as  its  inch  of  way  were  the  wide  sea's  pro- 
found !  75 

See,  safe  through  shoal  and  rock. 

How  they  follow  in  a  flock. 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates  the  ground, 

Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief  ! 
ENG.  POEMS  —  20 


306  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

The  peril,  see,  is  past,  80 

All  are  harbored  to  the  last. 

And  just  as  Herve  Riel  hollas  '  Anchor!  _'  —  sure  as  fate, 
Up  the  English  come  —  too  late  ! 

VIII 

So,  the  storm  subsides  to  calm  : 

They  see  the  green  trees  wave  85 

On  the  heights  o'erlooking  Greve. 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm. 
.'  Just  our  rapture  to  enhance, 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay. 
Gnash  their  teeth  and  glare  askance  90 

As  they  cannonade  away  ! 
Neath  rampired  Solidor  pleasant  riding  on  the  Ranee  ! ' 
How  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  Captain's  countenance  ! 
Out  burst  all  with  one  accord, 

'  This  is  Paradise  for  Hell !  95 

Let  France,  let  France's  King 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing ! ' 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 

'  Herv^  Riel ! ' 
As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more,  100 

Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 

In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes, 
Just  the  same  man  as  before. 

IX 

Then  said  Damfreville,  '  My  friend, 

I  must  speak  out  at  the  end,  105 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard. 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  lips  : 
You  have  saved  the  King  his  ships, 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
'Faith,  our  sun  was  near  ecHpse  !  no 


BROWNING  307 

Demand  whate'er  you  will, 

France  remains  your  debtor  still. 

Ask  to  heart's  content  and  have!  or  my  name's  not  Damfreville.' 

X 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 

On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke,  115 

As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 

Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue : 

'  Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say, 

Since  on  board  the  duty's  done. 

And  from  Malo  Roads  to  Croisic  Point,  what  is  it  but  a  run  ?      120 
Since  'tis  ask  and  have,  I  may  — 

Since  the  others  go  ashore  — 
Come  !  a  good  whole  holiday  ! 

Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,  whom  I  call  the  Belle  Aurore  ! ' 

That  he  asked  and  that  he  got,  —  nothing  more.  125 

XI 

Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost : 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisic  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell ; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 

On  a  single  fishing-smack,  130 

In  memory  of  the  man  but  for  whom  had  gone  to  wrack 

All  that  France  saved  from  the  fight  whence  England  bore  the 
bell. 
Go  to  Paris  :  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank  !  135 

You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to  Herv^  Riel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Herv6  Riel,  accept  my  verse  ! 

In  my  verse,  Herv^  Riel,  do  thou  once  more  139 

Save  the  squadron,  honor  France,  love  thy  wife  the  Belle  Aurore  ! 


308  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

ARTHUR    HUGH    CLOUGH 

1819-1861 

WHERE   LIES    THE   LAND? 

Where  lies  the  land  to  which  the  ship  would  go? 
Far,  far  ahead,  is  all  her  seamen  know. 
And  where  the  land  she  travels  from  ?     Away, 
Far,  far  behind,  is  all  that  they  can  say. 

On  sunny  noons  upon  the  deck's  smooth  face,  5 

Link'd  arm  in  arm,  how  pleasant  here  to  pace  ; 
Or,  o'er  the  stern  reclining,  watch  below 
The  foaming  wake  far  widening  as  we  go. 

On  stormy  nights  when  wild  northwesters  rave. 

How  proud  a  thing  to  fight  with  wind  and  wave !  10 

The  dripping  sailor  on  the  reeling  mast 

Exults  to  bear,  and  scorns  to  wish  it  past. 

Where  lies  the  land  to  which  the  ship  would  go? 

Far,  far  ahead,  is  all  her  seamen  know. 

And  where  the  land  she  travels  from  ?     Away,  15 

Far,  far  behind,  is  all  that  they  can  say. 

SAY   NOT    THE   STRUGGLE   NOUGHT    AVAILETH 

Say  not  the  struggle  nought  availeth, 
The  labor  and  the  wounds  are  vain, 

The  enemy  faints  not,  nor  faileth. 

And  as  things  have  been  they  remain. 

If  hopes  were  dupes,  fears  may  be  liars  ;  5 

It  may  be,  in  yon  smoke  concealed, 

Your  comrades  chase  e'en  now  the  fliers, 
And,  but  for  you,  possess  the  field. 


ARNOLD  309 

For  while  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking, 

Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain,  10 

Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making. 
Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main. 

And  not  by  eastern  windows  only, 

When  daylight  comes,  comes  in  the  light. 

In  front,  the  sun  climbs  slow,  how  slowly,  15 

But  westward,  look,  the  land  is  bright. 


MATTHEW    ARNOLD 


SHAKESPEARE 

Others  abide  our  question.     Thou  art  free. 
We  ask  and  ask —  Thou  smilest  and  art  still. 
Out-topping  knowledge.     For  the  loftiest  hill. 
Who  to  the  stars  uncrowns  his  majesty, 
Planting  his  steadfast  footsteps  in  the  sea. 
Making  the  heaven  of  heavens  his  dwelling-place. 
Spares  but  the  cloudy  border  of  his  base 
To  the  foil'd  searching  of  mortality ; 
And  thou,  who  didst  the  stars  and  sunbeams  know, 
Self-school'd,  self-scann'd,  self-honor'd,  self-secure, 
Didst  tread  on  earth  unguess'd  at.  —  Better  so  ! 
All  pains  the  immortal  spirit  must  endure. 
All  weakness  which  impairs,  all  griefs  which  bow. 
Find  their  sole  speech  in  that  victorious  brow. 

DOVER   BEACH 

The  sea  is  calm  to-night. 

The  tide  is  full,  the  moon  lies  fair 


3lO  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Upon  the  straits  ; — on  the  French  coast  the  hght 

Gleams  and  is  gone  ;  the  cHffs  of  England  stand, 

Glimmering  and  vast,  out  in  the  tranquil  bay.  5 

Come  to  the  window,  sweet  is  the  night-air ! 

Only,  from  the  long  line  of  spray 

Where  the  sea  meets  the  moon-blanched  land, 

Listen  !  you  hear  the  grating  roar 

Of  pebbles  which  the  waves  draw  back,  and  fling,  10 

At  their  return,  up  the  high  strand, 

Begin,  and  cease,  and  then  again  begin. 

With  tremulous  cadence  slow,  and  bring 

The  eternal  note  of  sadness  in. 

Sophocles  long  ago  15 

Heard  it  on  the  Aigean,  and  it  brought 

Into  his  mind  the  turbid  ebb  and  flow 

Of  human  misery  ;  we 

Find  also  in  the  sound  a  thought. 

Hearing  it  by  this  distant  northern  sea.  20 

The  Sea  of  Faith 

Was  once,  too,  at  the  full,  and  round  earth's  shore 

Lay  like  the  folds  of  a  bright  girdle  furl'd! 

But  I  only  hear 

Its  melancholy,  long,  withdrawing  roar,  25 

Retreating,  to  the  breath 

Of  the  night-wind,  down  the  vast  edges  drear 

And  naked  shingles  of  the  world. 

Ah,  love,  let  us  be  true 

To  one  another  !  for  the  world,  which  seems  30 

To  lie  before  us  like  a  land  of  dreams. 

So  various,  so  beautful,  so  new^, 

Hath  really  neither  joy,  nor  love,  nor  light. 

Nor  certitude,  nor  peace,  nor  help  for  pain  ; 

And  we  are  here  as  on  a  darkling  plain  35 


ARNOLD  3  I  I 

Swept  with  confused  alarms  of  struggle  and  flight, 
Where  ignorant  armies  clash  by  night. 


SELF-DEPEx\DENCE 

Weary  of  myself,  and  sick  of  asking 
What  I  am,  and  what  I  ought  to  be. 
At  this  vessel's  prow  I  stand,  which' bears  me 
Forwards,  forwards,  o'er  the  starlit  sea. 

And  a  look  of  passionate  desire  5 

O'er  the  sea  and  to  the  stars  I  send  : 
'  Ye  who  from  my  childhood  up  have  cahn'd  me, 
Calm  me,  ah,  compose  me  to  the  end  ! 

'Ah,  once  more,'  I  cried,  'ye  stars,  ye  waters, 

On  my  heart  your  mighty  charm  renew  ;  lo 

Still,  still  let  me,  as  I  gaze  upon  you, 

Feel  my  soul  becoming  vast  like  you  !' 

From  the  intense,  clear,  star-sown  vault  of  heaven, 
Over  the  lit  sea's  unquiet  way, 

In  the  rustling  night-air  came  the  answer :  15 

'  Wouldst  thou  be  as  these  are  ?     Live  as  they. 

'  Unaff righted  by  the  silence  round  them, 

Undistracted  by  the  sights  they  see, 

These  demand  not  that  the  things  without  them 

Yield  them  love,  amusement,  sympathy.  20 

'  And  with  joy  the  stars  perform  their  shining. 
And  the  sea  its  long  moon-silver'd  roll : 
For  self-poised  they  live,  nor  pine  with  noting 
All  the  fever  of  some  differing  soul. 

'  Bounded  by  themselves  and  un regardful  25 

In  what  state  God's  other  works  may  be. 


312  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

In  their  own  tasks  all  their  powers  pouring, 
These  attain  the  mighty  life  you  see.' 

O  air-born  voice  !  long  since,  severely  clear, 
A  cry  like  thine  in  mine  own  heart  I  hear : 
'  Resolve  to  be  thyself ;  and  know  that  he, 
Who  finds  himself  loses  his  misery!' 


GABRIEL   CHARLES  DANTE    ROSSETTI 


THE   BLESSED    DAMOZEL 

The  blessed  damozel  leaned  out 

From  the  gold  bar  of  Heaven ; 
Her  eyes  were  deeper  than  the  depth 

Of  waters  stilled  at  even  ; 
She  had  three  lilies  in  her  hand,  s 

And  the  stars  in  her  hair  were  seven. 

Her  robe,  ungirt  from  clasp  to  hem. 

No  wrought  flowers  did  adorn. 
But  a  white  rose  of  Mary's  gift. 

For  a  service  meetly  worn  ;  lo 

Her  hair  that  lay  along  her  back 

Was  yellow  like  ripe  corn. 

Her  seemed  she  scarce  had  been  a  day 

One  of  God's  choristers  ; 
The  wonder  was  not  yet  quite  gone  15 

From  that  still  look  of  hers  ; 
Albeit,  to  them  she  left,  her  day 

Had  counted  as  ten  years. 

(To  one,  it  is  ten  years  of  years. 

,  ,  .  Yet  now,  and  in  this  place,  20 


ROSSETTI  3  I  3 

Surely  she  leaned  o'er  me  —  her  hair 

Fell  all  about  my  face.  ... 
Nothing :  the  autumn  fall  of  leaves. 

The  whole  year  sets  apace.) 

It  was  the  rampart  of  God's  house  25 

That  she  was  standing  on  ; 
By  God  built  over  the  sheer  depth 

The  which  is  Space  begun  ; 
So  high,  that  looking  downward  thence 

She  scarce  could  see  the  sun.  30 

It  lies  in  Heaven,  across  the  flood 

Of  ether,  as  a  bridge. 
Beneath,  the  tides  of  day  and  night 

With  flame  and  darkness  ridge 
The  void,  as  low  as  where  this  earth  35 

Spins  like  a  fretful  midge. 

Around  her,  lovers,  newly  met 

'Mid  deathless  love's  acclaims, 
Spoke  evermore  among  themselves 

Their  heart-remembered  names  ;  40 

And  the  souls  mounting  up  to  God 

Went  by  her  like  thin  flames. 

And  still  she  bowed  herself  and  stooped 

Out  of  the  circling  charm  ; 
Until  her  bosom  must  have  made  45 

The  bar  she  leaned  on  warm, 
And  the  lilies  lay  as  if  asleep 

Along  her  bended  arm. 

From  the  fixed  place  of  Heaven  she  saw 

Time  like  a  pulse  shake  fierce  5° 

Through  all  the  worlds.      Her  gaze  still  strove 


314  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

Within  the  gulf  to  pierce 
Its  path  ;  and  now  she  spoke  as  when 
The  stars  sang  in  their  spheres. 

The  sun  was  gone  now  ;  the  curled  moon  « 

Was  like  a  little  feather 
Fluttering  far  down  the  gulf  ;  and  now 

She  spoke  through  the  still  Aveather. 
Her  voice  was  like  the  voice  the  stars 

Had  when  they  sang  together,  60 

(Ah  sweet !     Even  now,  in  that  bird's  song, 

Strove  not  her  accents  there, 
Fain  to  be  hearkened  ?     When  those  bells 

Possessed  the  mid-day  air, 
Strove  not  her  steps  to  reach  my  side  65 

Down  all  the  echoing  stair  ?) 

'  I  wish  that  he  were  come  to  me, 

For  he  will  come,'  she  said. 
'Have  I  not  prayed  in  Heaven?  —  on  earth, 

Lord,  Lord,  has  he  not  pray'd  ?  70 

Are  not  two  prayers  a  perfect  strength  ? 

And  shall  I  feel  afraid  ? 

'  When  round  his  head  the  aureole  clings, 

And  he  is  clothed  in  white, 
I'll  take  his  hand  and  go  with  him  75 

To  the  deep  wells  of  light; 
As  unto  a  stream  we  will  step  down, 

And  bathe  there  in  God's  sight. 

'  We  two  will  stand  beside  that  shrine, 

Occult,  withheld,  untrod,  80 

Whose  lamps  are  stirred  continually 

With  prayer  sent  up  to  God  ; 


ROSSE'ITI  3 1  5 

And  see  our  old  prayers,  granted,  melt 
Each  like  a  little  cloud. 

'  We  two  will  lie  i'  the  shadow  of  85 

That  living  mystic  tree 
Within  whose  secret  growth  the  Dove 

Is  sometimes  felt  to  be, 
While  every  leaf  that  His  plumes  touch 

Saith  His  Name  audibly.  90 

'  And  I  myself  will  teach  to  him, 

I  myself,  lying  so. 
The  songs  I  sing  here  ;  which  his  voice 

Shall  pause  in,  hushed  and  slow. 
And  find  some  knowledge  at  each  pause,  95 

Or  some  new  thing  to  know.' 

(Alas!     We  two,  we  two,  thou  say'st ! 

Yea,  one  wast  thou  with  me 
That  once  of  old.     But  shall  God  lift 

To  endless  unity  100 

The  soul  whose  likeness  with  thy  soul 

Was  but  its  love  for  thee  ?) 

'  We  two,'  she  said,  '  will  seek  the  groves 

Where  the  lady  Mary  is. 
With  her  five  handmaidens,  whose  names  105 

Are  five  sweet  symphonies, 
Cecily,  Gertrude,  Magdalen, 

Margaret  and  Rosalys. 

'  Circlewise  sit  they,  with  bound  locks 

And  foreheads  garlanded  ;  no 

Into  the  fine  cloth  white  like  flame 

Weaving  the  golden  thread, 
To  fashion  the  birth-robes  for  them 

Who  are  just  born,  being  dead. 


j6  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

'  He  shall  fear,  haply,  and  be  dumb  :  113 

Then  will  I  lay  my  cheek 
To  his,  and  tell  about  our  love. 

Not  once  abashed  or  weak  : 
And  the  dear  Mother  will  approve 

My  pride,  and  let  me  speak.  120 

'  Herself  shall  bring  us,  hand  in  hand, 

To  Him  round  whom  all  souls 
Kneel,  the  clear-ranged  unnumbered  heads 

Bowed  with  their  aureoles  : 
And  angels  meeting  us  shall  sing  125 

To  their  citherns  and  citoles. 

'  There  will  I  ask  of  Christ  the  Lord 

Thus  much  for  him  and  me  :  — 
Only  to  live  as  once  on  earth 

With  Love,  — only  to  be,  13° 

As  then  awhile,  forever  now 

Together,  I  and  he.' 

She  gazed  and  listened  and  then  said, 

Less  sad  of  speech  than  mild,  — 
'All  this  is  when  he  comes.'     She  ceased.  135 

The  light  thrilled  towards  her,  fill'd 
With  angels  in  strong  level  flight. 

Her  eyes  prayed,  and  she  smil'd. 

(I  saw  her  smile.)     But  soon  their  path 

Was  vague  in  distant  spheres  :  140 

And  then  she  cast  her  arms  along 
The  golden  barriers, 

And  laid  her  face  between  her  hands, 
And  wept.     (I  heard  her  tears.) 


ROSSETTI  3  1 7 

MY    SISTER'S    SLEEP 

She  fell  asleep  on  Christmas  Eve. 

At  length  the  long-ungranted  shade 

Of  weary  eyelids  overweigh'd 
The  pain  nought  else  might  yet  relieve. 

Our  mother,  who  had  leaned  all  day  5 

Over  the  bed  from  chime  to  chime, 

Then  raised  herself  for  the  first  time, 
And  as  she  sat  her  down,  did  pray. 

Her  little  work-table  was  spread 

With  work  to  finish.     For  the  glare  lo 

Made  by  her  candle,  she  had  care 
To  work  some  distance  from  the  bed. 

Without,  there  was  a  cold  moon  up. 

Of  winter  radiance  sheer  and  thin  ; 

The  hollow  halo  it  was  in  15 

Was  like  an  icy  crj^stal  cup. 

Through  the  small  room,  with  subtle  sound 

Of  flame,  by  vents  the  fireshine  drove 

And  reddened.     In  its  dim  alcove 
The  mirror  shed  a  clearness  round.  20 

I  had  been  sitting  up  some  nights, 

And  my  tired  mind  felt  weak  and  blank; 

Like  a  sharp  strengthening  wine  it  drank 
The  stillness  and  the  broken  lights. 

Twelve  struck.     That  sound,  by  dwindling  years  25 

Heard  in  each  hour,  crept  off ;  and  then 
The  ruffled  silence  spread  again, 

Like  water  that  a  pebble  stirs. 

Our  mother  rose  from  where  she  sat : 

Her  needles,  as  she  laid  them  down,  30 


3l8  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Met  lightly,  and  her  silken  gown 
Settled  :  no  other  noise  than  that. 

'  Glory  unto  the  Newly  Born  ! ' 

So,  as  said  angels,  she  did  say ; 

Because  we  were  in  Christmas  Day,  « 

Though  it  would  still  be  long  till  morn. 

Just  then  in  the  room  over  us 

There  was  a  pushing  back  of  chairs, 

As  some  who  had  sat  unawares 
So  late,  now  heard  the  hour,  and  rose.     .  40 

With  anxious  softly-stepping  haste 
Our  mother  went  where  Margaret  lay, 
Fearing  the  sounds  o'erhead  —  should  they 

Have  broken  her  long-watched-for  rest ! 

She  stooped  an  instant,  calm,  and  turned;  45 

But  suddenly  turned  back  again  ; 

And  all  her  features  seemed  in  pain 
With  woe,  and  her  eyes  gazed  and  yearned. 

For  my  part,  I  but  hid  my  face, 

And  held  my  breath,  and  spoke  no  word  :  50 

There  was  none  spoken  ;  but  I  heard 
The  silence  for  a  little  space. 

Our  mother  bowed  herself  and  wept : 
And  both  my  arms  fell,  and  I  said, 
'God  knows  I  knew  that  she  was  dead.' 

And  there,  all  white,  my  sister  slept. 


55 


Then  kneeling  upon  Christmas  morn 

A  little  after  twelve  o'clock 

We  said,  ere  the  first  quarter  struck, 
'  Christ's  blessing  on  the  newly  born  ! '  60 


ROSSETTI  319 

SONNET   XIX  — SILENT    NOON 

Your  hands  lie  open  in  the  long  fresh  grass,  — 
The  finger-points  look  through  like  rosy  blooms  : 
Your  eyes  smile  peace.     The  pasture  gleams  and  glooms 

'Neath  billowing  skies  that  scatter  and  amass. 

All  round  our  nest,  far  as  the  eye  can  pass,  5 

Are  golden  kingcup-fields  with  silver  edge 
Where  the  cow-parsley  skirts  the  hawthorn-hedge. 

'Tis  visible  silence,  still  as  the  hour-glass. 

Deep  in  the  sun-searched  growths  the  dragon-fly 

Hangs  like  a  blue  thread  loosened  from  the  sky  :  —  10 

So  this  wing'd  hour  is  dropt  to  us  from  above. 
Oh  !  clasp  we  to  our  hearts,  for  deathless  dower. 
This  close-companioned  inarticulate  hour 

When  twofold  silence  was  the  song  of  love. 


SONNET  LXXXVI  — LOST   DAYS 

The  lost  days  of  my  life  until  to-day, 

What  were  they,  could  I  see  them  on  the  street 

Lie  as  they  fell  ?     Would  they  be  ears  of  wheat 
Sown  once  for  food  but  trodden  into  clay  ? 
Or  golden  coins  squandered  and  still  to  pay  ? 

Or  drops  of  blood  dabbling  the  guilty  feet? 

Or  such  spilt  water  as  in  dreams  must  cheat 
The  undying  throats  of  Hell,  athirst  alway? 

I  do  not  see  them  here  ;  but  after  death 
God  knows  I  know  the  faces  I  shall  see. 

Each  one  a  murdered  self,  with  low  last  breath. 
'  I  am  thyself,  —  what  hast  thou  done  to  me  ? ' 

'  And  I  —  and  I  —  thyself,'  (lo  !  each  one  saith,) 
'  And  thou  thyself  to  all  eternity  ! ' 


320  THE  VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

ALGERNON    CHARLES   SWINBURNE 

1837- 
CHORUS 

[From  Atalanta  in  Calydon'] 

When  the  hounds  of  spring  are  on  winter's  traces, 
The  mother  of  months  in  meadow  or  plain 

Fills  the  shadows  and  windy  places 
With  lisp  of  leaves  and  ripple  of  rain  ; 

And  the  brown  bright  nightingale  amorous  c 

Is  half  assuaged  for  Itylus, 

For  the  Thracian  ships  and  the  foreign  faces, 
The  tongueless  vigil,  and  all  the  pain. 

Come  with  bows  bent  and  with  emptying  of  quivers. 

Maiden  most  perfect,  lady  of  light,  10 

With  a  noise  of  winds  and  many  rivers, 
With  a  clamor  of  waters,  and  with  might ; 

Bind  on  thy  sandals,  O  thou  most  fleet, 

Over  the  splendor  and  speed  of  thy  feet ; 

For  the  faint  east  quickens,  the  wan  west  shivers,  15 

Round  the  feet  of  the  day  and  the  feet  of  the  night. 

Where  shall  we  find  her,  how  shall  we  sing  to  her, 
Fold  our  hands  round  her  knees,  and  cling  ? 

O  that  man's  heart  were  as  fire  and  could  spring  to  her 
Fire,  or  the  strength  of  the  streams  that  spring !  20 

For  the  stars  and  the  winds  are  unto  her 

As  raiment,  as  songs  of  the  harp-player  ; 

For  the  risen  stars  and  the  fallen  cling  to  her. 
And  the  southwest-wind  and  the  west-wind  sing. 


SWINBURNE  321 

For  winter's  rains  and  ruins  are  over,  25 

And  all  the  season  of  snows  and  sins  ; 
The  days  dividing  lover  and  lover, 

The  light  that  loses,  the  night  that  wins  ; 
And  time  remembered  is  grief  forgotten, 
And  frosts  are  slain  and  flowers  begotten,  30 

And  in  green  underwood  and  cover 

Blossom  by  blossom  the  spring  begins. 

The  full  streams  feed  on  flower  of  rushes. 

Ripe  grasses  trammel  a  traveling  foot, 
The  faint  fresh  flame  of  the  young  year  flushes  35 

From  leaf  to  flower  and  flower  to  fruit ; 
And  fruit  and  leaf  are  as  gold  and  fire. 
And  the  oat  is  heard  above  the  lyre, 
And  the  hOoffed  heel  of  a  satyr  crushes 
The  chestnut-husk  at  the  chestnut-root.  40 

And  Pan  by  noon  and  Bacchus  by  night, 

Pleeter  of  foot  than  the  fleet-foot  kid, 
Follows  with  dancing  and  fills  with  delight 

The  Maenad  and  the  Bassarid  ; 
And  soft  as  lips  that  laugh  and  hide  45 

The  laughing  leaves  of  the  trees  divide. 
And  screen  from  seeing  and  leave  in  sight 

The  god  pursuing,  the  maiden  hid. 

The  ivy  falls  with  the  Bacchanal's  hair 

Over  her  eyebrows  hiding  her  eyes  ;  50 

The  wild  vine  slipping  down  leaves  bare 

Her  bright  breast  shortening  into  sighs  ; 
The  wild  vine  slips  with  the  weight  of  its  leaves, 
But  the  berried  ivy  catches  and  cleaves 
To  the  limbs  that  glitter,  the  feet  that  scare  55 

The  wolf  that  follows,  the  fawn  that  flies. 

ENG.   POEMS— 21 


322  THE    VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

THE    SALT    OF    THE    EARTH 

If  childhood  were  not  in  the  world, 

But  only  men  and  women  grown ; 
No  baby-locks  in  tendrils  curled, 

No  baby  blossoms  blown  ; 

Though  men  were  stronger,  women  fairer,  5 

And  nearer  all  delights  in  reach. 
And  verse  and  music  uttered  rarer 

Tones  of  more  godlike  speech  ; 

Though  the  utmost  life  of  life's  best  hours 

Found,  as  it  cannot  find,  words  ;  10 

Though  desert  sands  were  sweet  as  flowers 
And  flowers  could  sing  like  birds, 

But  children  never  heard  them,  never 
They  felt  a  child's  foot  leap  and  run ; 

This  were  a  drearier  star  than  ever  15 

Yet  looked  upon  the  sun. 


ALFRED    TENNYSON 

1809-1892 

MARIANA 

'Mariana  in  the  moated  grange.' 

—  Measure  for  Measure. 

With  blackest  moss  the  flower-pots 

Were  thickly  crusted,  one  and  all ; 
The  rusted  nails  fell  from  the  knots 

That  held  the  pear  to  the  gable  wall. 


TENNYSON  323 

The  broken  sheds  look'd  sad  and  strange ;  5 

UnHfted  was  the  cUnking  latch  : 
Weeded  and  worn  the  ancient  thatch 
Upon  the  lonely  moated  grange. 

She  only  said,  '  My  life  is  dreary, 

He  Cometh  not,'  she  said  ;  10 

She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
I  would  that  I  were  dead ! ' 


Her  tears  fell  with  the  dews  at  even  ; 

Her  tears  fell  ere  the  dews  were  dried ; 
She  could  not  look  on  the  sweet  heaven,  15 

Either  at  morn  or  eventide. 
After  the  flitting  of  the  bats. 

When  thickest  dark  did  trance  the  sky, 
She  drew  her  casement-curtain  by, 
And  glanced  athwart  the  glooming  flats.  20 

She  only  said,  '  The  night  is  dreary, 

He  Cometh  not,'  she  said  ; 
She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
I  would  that  I  were  dead  !  ' 

Upon  the  middle  of  the  night,  25 

Waking  she  heard  the  night-fowl  crow ; 
The  cock  sung  out  an  hour  ere  light ; 

From  the  dark  fen  the  oxen's  low 
Came  to  her  :  without  hope  of  change. 

In  sleep  she  seemed  to  walk  forlorn,  30 

Till  cold  winds  woke  the  gray-eyed  morn 
About  the  lonely  moated  grange. 

She  only  said,  '  The  day  is  dreary, 

He  cometh  not,'  she  said  ; 
She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary,  35 

I  would  that  I  were  dead  ! ' 


324  THE  VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

About  a  stone-cast  from  the  wall 

A  sluice  with  blacken 'd  waters  slept, 
And  o'er  it  many,  round  and  small, 

The  cluster'd  marish-mosses  crept.  40 

Hard  by  a  poplar  shook  alway, 

All  silver-green  with  gnarled  bark : 
For  leagues  no  other  tree  did  mark 
The  level  waste,  the  rounding  gray. 

She  only  said,  'My  life  is  dreary,  45 

He  cometh  not,'  she  said  ; 
She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
I  would  that  I  were  dead ! ' 

And  ever  when  the  moon  was  low. 

And  the  shrill  winds  were  up  and  away,  50 

In  the  white  curtain,  to  and  fro, 

She  saw  the  gusty  shadows  sway. 
But  when  the  moon  was  very  low. 

And  wild  winds  bound  within  their  cell, 
The  shadow  of  the  poplar  fell  55 

Upon  her  bed,  across  her  brow. 

She  only  said,  '  The  night  is  dreary, 

He  Cometh  not,'  she  said ; 
She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 

I  would  that  I  were  dead  ! '  60 

All  day  within  the  dreamy  house, 

The  doors  upon  their  hinges  creak'd ; 

The  blue  fly  sung  in  the  pane  ;  the  mouse 
Behind  the  mouldering  wainscot  shriek'd, 

Or  from  the  crevice  peered  about.  65 

Old  faces  glimmer'd  thro'  the  doors. 
Old  footsteps  trod  the  upper  floors. 

Old  voices  called  her  from  without. 
She  only  said,  '  My  life  is  dreary. 


TENNYSON  325 

He  Cometh  not,'  she  said;  70 

She  said,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
I  would  that  I  were  dead  ! ' 

The  sparrow's  chirrup  on  the  roof, 

The  slow  clock  ticking,  and  the  sound 
Which  to  the  wooing  wind  aloof  '  75 

The  poplar  made,  did  all  confound 
Her  sense  ;  but  most  she  loathed  the  hour 
When  the  thick-moted  sunbeam  lay 
Athwart  the  chambers,  and  the  day 
Was  sloping  toward  his  western  bower.  80 

Then  said  she,  '  I  am  very  dreary. 

He  will  not  come,'  she  said  ; 
She  wept,  '  I  am  aweary,  aweary, 
O  God,  that  I  were  dead  ! ' 


BREAK,    BREAK,    BREAK 

Break,  break,  break. 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  Sea ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 

The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me. 

O,  well  for  the  fisherman's  boy, 

That  he  shouts  with  his  sister  at  play  ! 

O,  well  for  the  sailor  lad, 

That  he  sings  in  his  boat  on  the  bay ! 

And  the  stately  ships  go  on 
To  their  haven  under  the  hill ; 

But  O  for  the  touch  of  a  vanish'd  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 

Break,  break,  break. 

At  the  foot  of  thy  crags  O  Sea  ! 


326  THE    VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

But  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead  le 

Will  never  come  back  to  me. 


BUGLE   SONG 

[From  7 he  Princess'] 

The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls 

And  snowy  summits  old  in  story ; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 

And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying,  r 

Blow,  bugle  ;  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

O,  hark,  O,  hear  !  how  thin  and  clear. 

And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going  ! 
O,  sweet  and  far  from  cliff  and  scar 

The  horns  of  Elfiand  faintly  blowing  !  jo 

Blow,  let  us  hear  the  purple  glens  replying. 
Blow,  bugle  ;  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

O,  love,  they  die  in  yon  rich  sky. 

They  faint  on  hill  or  field  or  river  ; 
Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul,  ig 

And  grow  for  ever  and  for  ever. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying, 
And  answer,  echoes,  answer,  dying,  dying,  dying. 


TEARS,  IDLE  TEARS 

'  Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean. 
Tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes. 
In  looking  on  the  happy  autumn-fields. 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more. 


TENNYSON  32/ 

'  Fresh  as  the  first  beam  glittering  on  a  sail, 
That  brings  our  friends  up  from  the  underworld, 
Sad  as  the  last  which  reddens  over  one 
That  sinks  with  all  we  love  below  the  verge  ; 
So  sad,  so  fresh,  the  days  that  are  no  more.  lo 

'  Ah,  sad  and  strange  as  in  dark  summer  dawns 
The  earliest  pipe  of  half-awaken 'd  birds 
To  dying  ears,  when  unto  dying  eyes 
The  casement  slowly  grows  a  glimmering  square  ; 
So  sad,  so  strange,  the  days  that  are  no  more.  15 

'  Dear  as  remember'd  kisses  after  death. 
And  sweet  as  those  by  hopeless  fancy  feign'd 
On  lips  that  are  for  others ;  deep  as  love. 
Deep  as  first  love,  and  wild  with  all  regret ; 
O  Death  in  Life,  the  days  that  are  no  more.'  20 


IN    MEMORIAM 

XV 

To-NiGHT  the  winds  begin  to  rise 
And  roar  from  yonder  dropping  day ; 
The  last  red  leaf  is  whirl'd  away. 

The  rooks  are  blown  about  the  skies ; 

The  forest  crack'd,  the  waters  curl'd, 
The  cattle  huddled  on  the  lea  ; 
And  wildly  dash'd  on  tower  and  tree 

The  sunbeam  strikes  along  the  world : 

And  but  for  fancies,  which  aver 
That  all  thy  motions  gently  pass 
Athwart  a  plane  of  molten  glass, 

I  scarce  could  brook  the  strain  and  stir 


328  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

That  maKes  the  barren  branches  loud  ; 

And  but  for  fear  it  is  not  so, 

The  wild  unrest  that  lives  in  woe  15 

Would  dote  and  pore  on  yonder  cloud 

That  rises  upward  always  higher, 

And  onward  drags  a  laboring  breast, 
And  topples  round  the  dreary  west, 

A  looming  bastion  fringed  with  fire.  20 


With  trembling  fingers  did  we  weave 
The  holly  round  the  Christmas  hearth ; 
A  rainy  cloud  possess'd  the  earth, 

And  sadly  fell  on  Christmas-eve. 

At  our  old  pastimes  in  the  hall  5 

We  gamboU'd,  making  vain  pretence 

Of  gladness,  with  an  awful  sense 
Of  one  mute  Shadow  watching  all. 

We  paused  :  the  winds  were  in  the  beech  : 

We  heard  them  sweep  the  winter  land  ;  10 

And  in  a  circle  hand-in-hand 

Sat  silent,  looking  each  at  each. 

Then  echo-like  our  voices  rang  ; 

We  sung,  tho'  every  eye  was  dim, 

A  merry  song  we  sang  with  him  15 

Last  year  ;  impetuously  we  sang. 

We  ceased  ;  a  gentler  feeling  crept 

Upon  us  :  surely  rest  is  meet. 

'  They  rest,'  we  said,  '  their  sleep  is  sweet,' 
And  silence  follow'd,  and  we  wept.  20 


TENNYSON  ,         329 

Our  voices  took  a  higher  range  ; 

Once  more  we  sang :  '  They  do  not  die 

Nor  lose  their  mortal  sympathy, 
Nor  change  to  us,  altho'  they  change ; 

*  Rapt  from  the  fickle  and  the  frail  25 

With  gather'd  power,  yet  the  same, 

Pierces  the  keen  seraphic  flame 
From  orb  to  orb,  from  veil  to  veil.' 

Rise,  happy  morn,  rise,  holy  morn. 

Draw  forth  the  cheerful  day  from  night :  30 

O  Father,  touch  the  east,  and  light 
The  light  that  shone  when  Hope  was  born. 

cxxxi 

O  living  will  that  shall  endure 

When  all  that  seems  shall  suffer  shock, 
Rise  in  the  spiritual  rock. 

Flow  thro'  our  deeds  and  make  them  pure, 

That  we  may  lift  from  out  of  dust  5 

A  voice  as  unto  him  that  hears, 

A  cry  above  the  conquer'd  years 
To  one  that  with  us  works, and  trust, 

With  faith  that  comes  of  self-control. 

The  truths  that  never  can  be  proved  10 

Until  we  close  with  all  we  loved, 
And  all  we  flow  from,  soul  in  soul. 


THE   BROOK 

I  COME  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hern, 
I  make  a  sudden  sally, 


330  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 
To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

By  thirty  hills  I  hurry  down,  e 

Or  slip  between  the  ridges, 
By  twenty  thorps,  a  little  town, 

And  half  a  hundred  bridges. 

Till  last  by  Philip's  farm  I  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river,  lo 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  chatter  over  stony  ways, 

In  little  sharps  and  trebles, 
I  bubble  into  eddying  bays,  m 

I  babble  on  the  pebbles. 

With  many  a  curve  my  banks  I  fret 

By  many  a  field  and  fallow, 
And  many  a  fairy  foreland  set 

With  willow-weed  and  mallow.  -  20 

I  chatter,  chatter,  as  I  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river, 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go. 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  wind  about,  and  in  and  out,  25 

With  here  a  blossom  sailing. 
And  here  and  there  a  lusty  trout, 

And  here  and  there  a  grayling, 

And  here  and  there  a  foamy  flake 

Upon  me,  as  I  travel  30 

With  many  a  silver  water-break 

Above  the  golden  gravel, 


TENNYSON  331 

And  draw  them  all  along,  and  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river, 
For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go,  35 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

I  steal  by  lawns  and  grassy  plots, 

I  slide  by  hazel  covers  ; 
I  move  the  sweet  forget-me-nots 

That  grow  for  happy  lovers.  40 

I  slip,  I  slide,  I  gloom,  I  glance. 

Among  my  skimming  swallows  ; 
I  make  the  netted  sunbeam  dance 

Against  my  sandy  shallows. 

I  murmur  under  moon  and  stars  45 

In  brambly  wildernesses ; 
I  linger  by  my  shingly  bars  ; 

I  loiter  round  my  cresses  ; 

And  out  again  I  curve  and  flow 

To  join  the  brimming  river,  50 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go. 

But  I  go  on  forever. 

ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF 
WELLINGTON 

I 

Bury  the  Great  Duke 

With  an  empire's  lamentation  ; 
Let  us  bury  the  Great  Duke 

To  the  noise  of  the  mourning  of  a  mighty  nation ; 
Mourning  when  their  leaders  fall,  5 

Warriors  carry  the  warrior's  pall, 
And  sorrow  darkens  hamlet  and  hall. 


332  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 


Where  shall  we  lay  the  man  whom  we  deplore  ? 

Here  in  streaming  London's  central  roar. 

Let  the  sound  of  those  he  wrought  for,  lo 

And  the  feet  of  those  he  fought  for, 

Echo  round  his  bones  for  evermore. 

Ill 

Lead  out  the  pageant :  sad  and  slow, 

As  fits  an  universal  woe, 

Let  the  long,  long  procession  go,  15 

And  let  the  sorrowing  crowd  about  it  grow. 

And  let  the  mournful  martial  music  blow ; 

The  last  great  Englishman  is  low. 


Mourn,  for  to  us  he  seems  the  last, 

Remembering  all  his  greatness  in  the  past.  20 

No  more  in  soldier  fashion  will  he  greet 

With  lifted  hand  the  gazer  in  the  street. 

O  friends,  our  chief  state-oracle  is  mute  ! 

Mourn  for  the  man  of  long-enduring  blood. 

The  statesman-warrior,  moderate,  resolute,  25 

Whole  in  himself,  a  common  good. 

Mourn  for  the  man  of  amplest  influence. 

Yet  clearest  of  ambitious  crime. 

Our  greatest  yet  with  least  pretence, 

Great  in  council  and  great  in  war,  30 

Foremost  captain  of  his  time, 

Rich  in  saving  common-sense, 

And,  as  the  greatest  only  are, 

In  his  simplicity  sublime. 

O  good  gray  head  which  all  men  knew,  35 

O  voice  from  which  their  omens  all  men  drew, 

O  iron  nerve  to  true  occasion  true, 


TENNYSON  333 

O  fallen  at  length  that  tower  of  strength 

Which  stood  four-square  to  all  the  winds  that  blew  ! 

Such  was  he  whom  we  deplore.  40 

The  long  self-sacrifice  of  life  is  o'er. 

The  great  World-victor's  victor  will  be  seen  no  more. 

V 

All  is  over  and  done. 

Render  thanks  to  the  Giver, 

England,  for  thy  son.  45 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd. 

Render  thanks  to  the  Giver, 

And  render  him  to  the  mould. 

Under  the  cross  of  gold 

That  shines  over  city  and  river,  50 

There  he  shall  rest  forever 

Among  the  wise  and  the  bold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd, 

And  a  reverent  people  behold 

The  towering  car,  the  sable  steeds.  55 

Bright  let  it  be  with  its  blazon 'd  deeds, 

Dark  in  its  funeral  fold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd. 

And  a  deeper  knell  in  the  heart  be  knoll'd ; 

And  the  sound  of  the  sorrowing  anthem  roll'd  60 

Thro'  the  dome  of  the  golden  cross  ; 

And  the  volleying  cannon  thunder  his  loss  ; 

He  knew  their  voices  of  old. 

For  many  a  time  in  many  a  clime 

His  captain's-ear  has  heard  them  boom  65 

Bellowing  victory,  bellowing  doom. 

When  he  with  those  deep  voices  wrought, 

Guarding  realms  and  kings  from  shame, 

With  those  deep  voices  our  dead  captain  taught 

The  tyrant,  and  asserts  his  claim  70 

In  that  dread  sound  to  the  great  name, 


334  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Which  he  has  worn  so  pure  of  blame, 

In  praise  and  in  dispraise  the  same, 

A  man  of  well-attemper'd  frame. 

O  civic  muse,  to  such  a  name,  -c 

To  such  a  name  for  ages  long, 

To  such  a  name, 

Preserve  a  broad  approach  of  fame, 

And  ever-echoing  avenues  of  song  ! 


'  Who  is  he  that  cometh,  like  an  honor'd  guest,  80 

With  banner  and  with  music,  with  soldier  and  with  priest. 

With  a  nation  weeping,  and  breaking  on  my  rest  ? ' 

Mighty  Seaman,  this  is  he 

Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea. 

Thine  island  loves  thee  well,  thou  famous  man,  85 

The  greatest  sailor  since  our  world  began. 

Now,  to  the  roll  of  muffled  drums. 

To  thee  the  greatest  soldier  comes  ; 

For  this  is  he 

Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea.  90 

His  foes  were  thine  ;  he  kept  us  free ; 

O,  give  him  welcome,  this  is  he 

Worthy  of  our  gorgeous  rites. 

And  worthy  to  be  laid  by  thee  ; 

For  this  is  England's  greatest  son,  95 

He  that  gain'd  a  hundred  fights. 

Nor  ever  lost  an  English  gun ; 

This  is  he  that  far  away 

Against  the  myriads  of  Assaye 

Clash'd  with  his  fiery  few  and  won  ;  100 

And  underneath  another  sun, 

Warring  on  a  later  day. 

Round  affrighted  Lisbon  drew 

The  treble  works,  the  vast  designs 


TENNYSON  335 

Of  his  labor'd  rampart-lines,  •  105 

Where  he  greatly  stood  at  bay, 

Whence  he  issued  forth  anew, 

And  ever  great  and  greater  grew, 

Beating  from  the  wasted  vines 

Back  to  France  her  banded  swarms,  no 

Back  to  France  with  countless  blows, 

Till  o'er  the  hills  her  eagles  flew 

Beyond  the  Pyrenean  pines, 

Follow'd  up  in  valley  and  glen 

With  blare  of  bugle,  clamor  of  men,  115 

Roll  of  cannon  and  clash  of  arms, 

And  England  pouring  on  her  foes. 

Such  a  war  had  such  a  close. 

Again  their  ravening  eagle  rose 

In  anger,  wheel'd  on  Europe-shadowing  wings,  120 

And  barking  for,  the  thrones  of  kings  ; 

Till  one  that  sought  but  Duty's  iron  crown 

On  that  loud  Sabbath  shook  the  spoiler  down  ; 

A  day  of  onsets  of  despair ! 

Dash'd  on  every  rocky  square,  125 

Their  surging  charges  foam'd  themselves  away; 

Last,- the  Prussian  trumpet  blew  ; 

Thro'  the  long-tormented  air 

Heaven  flash'd  a  sudden  jubilant  ray. 

And  down  he  swept  and  charged  and  overthrew.  130 

So  great  a  soldier  taught  us  there 

What  long-enduring  hearts  could  do 

In  that  world  earthquake,  Waterloo ! 

Mighty  Seaman,  tender  and  true, 

And  pure  as  he  from  taint  of  craven  guile,  135 

O  savior  of  the  silver-coasted  isle, 

O  shaker  of  the  Baltic  and  the  Nile, 

If  aught  of  things  that  here  befall 

Touch  a  spirit  among  things  divine, 


336  THE   VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

If  love  of  country  move  thee  there  at  all,  140 

Be  glad,  because  his  bones  are  laid  by  thine  1 

And  thro'  the  centuries  let  a  people's  voice 

In  full  acclaim, 

A  people's  voice. 

The  proof  and  echo  of  all  human  fame,  145 

A  people's  voice,  when  they  rejoice 

At  civic  revel  and  pomp  and  game, 

Attest  their  great  commander's  claim 

With  honor,  honor,  honor,  honor  to  him, 

Eternal  honor  to  his  name.  150 

VII 

A  people's  voice  !  we  are  a  people  yet. 

Tho'  all  men  else  their  nobler  dreams  forget, 

Confused  by  brainless  mobs  and  lawless  Powers, 

Thank  Him  who  isled  us  here,  and  roughly  set 

His  Briton  in  blown  seas  and  storming  showers,  155 

We  have  a  voice  with  which  to  pay  the  debt 

Of  boundless  love  and  reverence  and  regret 

To  those  great  men  who  fought,  and  kept  it  ours. 

And  keep  it  ours,  O  God,  from  brute  control ! 

O  Statesmen,  guard  us,  guard  the  eye,  the  soul  160 

Of  Europe,  keep  our  noble  England  whole, 

And  save  the  one  true  seed  of  freedom  sown 

Betwixt  a  people  and  their  ancient  throne. 

That  sober  freedom  out  of  which  there  springs 

Our  loyal  passion  for  our  temperate  kings  !  165 

For,  saving  that,  ye  help  to  save  mankind 

Till  public  wrong  be  crumbled  into  dust. 

And  drill  the  raw  world  for  the  march  of  mind. 

Till  crowds  at  length  be  sane  and  crowns  be  just. 

But  wink  no  more  in  scornful  overtrust,  170 

Remember  him  who  led  your  hosts  ; 

He  bade  you  guard  the  sacred  coasts. 


TENNYSON  337 

Your  cannons  moulder  on  the  seaward  wall ; 

His  voice  is  silent  in  your  council-hall 

For  ever ;  and  whatever  tempests  lour  175 

For  ever  silent ;  even  if  they  broke 

In  thunder,  silent;  yet  remember  all 

He  spoke  among  you,  and  the  Man  who  spoke  ; 

Who  never  sold  the  truth  to  serve  the  hour, 

Nor  palter'd  with  Eternal  God  for  power  ;  180 

Who  let  the  turbid  streams  of  rumor  flow 

Thro'  either  babbling  world  of  high  and  low  ; 

Whose  life  was  work,  whose  language  rife 

With  rugged  maxims  hewn  from  life  ; 

Who  never  spoke  against  a  foe  ;  185 

Whose  eighty  winters  freeze  with  one  rebuke 

All  great  self-seekers  trampling  on  the  right. 

Truth-teller  was  our  England's  Alfred  named  ; 

Truth-lover  was  our  English  Duke  ; 

Whatever  record  leap  to  light  190 

He  never  shall  be  shamed. 


Lo !  the  leader  in  these  glorious  wars 

Now  to  glorious  burial  slowly  borne, 

Follow'd  by  the  brave  of  other  lands, 

He,  on  whom  from  both  her  open  hands  195 

Lavish  Honor  shower'd  all  her  stars. 

And  affluent  Fortune  emptied  all  her  horn. 

Yea,  let  all  good  things  await 

Him  who  cares  not  to  be  great 

But  as  he  saves  or  serves  the  state.  200 

Not  once  or  twice  in  our  rough  island-story 

The  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory. 

He  that  walks  it,  only  thirsting 

For  the  right,  and  learns  to  deaden 

Love  of  self,  before  his  journey  closes,  205 

ENG.  POEMS  —  22 


338  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

He  shall  find  the  stubborn  thistle  bursting 

Into  glossy  purples,  which  outredden 

All  voluptuous  garden-roses. 

Not  once  or  twice  in  our  fair  island-story 

The  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory.  210 

He,  that  ever  following  her  commands, 

On  with  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and  hands. 

Thro'  the  long  gorge  to  the  far  light  has  won 

His  path  upward,  and  prevail'd. 

Shall  find  the  toppling  crags  of  Duty  scaled  215 

Are  close  upon  the  shining  table-lands 

To  which  our  God  Himself  is  moon  and  sun. 

Such  was  he :  his  work  is  done. 

But  while  the  races  of  mankind  endure 

Let  his  great  example  stand  220 

Colossal,  seen  of  every  land. 

And  keep  the  soldier  firm,  the  statesman  pure  ; 

Till  in  all  lands  and  thro'  all  human  story 

The  path  of  duty  be  the  way  to  glory. 

And  let  the  land  whose  hearths  he  saved  from  shame  225 

For  many  and  many  an  age  proclaim 

At  civic  revel  and  pomp  and  game. 

And  when  the  long-illumined  cities  flame, 

Their  ever-loyal  iron  leader's  fame. 

With  honor,  honor,  honor,  honor  to  him,  230 

Eternal  honor  to  his  name. 


Peace,  his  triumph  will  be  sung 

By  some  yet  unmoulded  tongue 

Far  on  in  summers  that  we  shall  not  see. 

Peace,  it  is  a  day  of  pain  235 

For  one  about  whose  patriarchal  knee 

Late  the  little  children  clung. 

O  peace,  it  is  a  day  of  pain 


TENNYSON  339 

For  one,  upon  whose  hand  and  heart  and  brain 

Once  the  weight  and  fate  of  Europe  hung.  240 

Ours  the  pain,  be  his  the  gain  ! 

More  than  is  of  man's  degree 

Must  be  with  us,  watching  here 

At  this,  our  great  solemnity. 

Whom  we  see  not  we  revere  ;  245 

We  revere,  and  we  refrain 

From  talk  of  battles  loud  and  vain, 

And  brawling  memories  all  too  free 

For  such  a  wise  humility 

As  befits  a  solemn  fane  :  250 

We  revere,  and  while  we  hear 

The  tides  of  Music's  golden  sea 

Setting  toward  eternity, 

Uplifted  high  in  heart  and  hope  are  we, 

Until  we  doubt  not  that  for  one  so  true  255 

There  must  be  other  nobler  work  to  do 

Than  when  he  fought  at  Waterloo, 

And  Victor  he  must  ever  be. 

For  tho'  the  Giant  Ages  heave  the  hill 

And  break  the  shore,  and  evermore  260 

Make  and  break,  and  work  their  will, 

Tho'  world  on  world  in  myriad  myriads  roll 

Round  us,  each  with  different  powers, 

And  other  forms  of  life  than  ours. 

What  know  we  greater  than  the  soul  ?  265 

On  God  and  Godlike  men  we  build  our  trust. 

Hush,  the  Dead  March  wails  in  the  people's  ears  ; 

The  dark  crowd  moves,  and  there  are  sobs  and  tears  ; 

The  black  earth  yawns  ;  the  mortal  disappears  ; 

Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust ;  270 

He  is  gone  who  seemed  so  great  — 

Gone,  but  nothing  can  bereave  him 

Of  the  force  he  made  his  own 


340  THE   VICTORIAN   PERIOD 

Being  here,  and  we  believe  him 

Something  far  advanced  in  State,  275 

And  that  he  wears  a  truer  crown 

Than  any  wreath  that  man  can  weave  him. 

Speak  no  more  of  his  renown, 

Lay  your  earthly  fancies  down, 

And  in  the  vast  cathedral  leave  him,  280 

God  accept  him,  Christ  receive  him ! 

THE   CHARGE   OF   THE   LIGHT    BRIGADE 


Half  a  league,  half  a  league, 
Half  a  league  onward. 

All  in  the  valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 

'  Forward  the  Light  Brigade  1 

Charge  for  the  guns  ! '  he  said. 

Into  the  valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 


*  Forward  the  Light  Brigade  ! ' 

Was  there  a  man  dismay'd  ?  10 

Not  tho'  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blunder'd. 
Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 

Theirs  but  to  do  and  die.  j^ 

Into  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 


Cannon  to  right  of  them, 
Cannon  to  left  of  them, 


TENNYSON  34 I 

Cannon  in  front  of  them  20 

Volley 'd  and  thunder'd  ; 
Storm'd  at  with  shot  and  shell, 
Boldly  they  rode  and  well, 
Into  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  hell  25 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 

IV 

Flash 'd  all  their  sabres  bare, 

Flash 'd  as  they  turned  in  air 

Sabring  the  gunners  there. 

Charging  an  army,  while  30 

All  the  world  wonder'd. 
Plunged  in  the  battery-smoke 
Right  thro'  the  line  they  broke  ; 
Cossack  and  Russian 
Reel'd  from  the  sabre-stroke  35 

Shatter'd  and  sunder'd. 
Then  they  rode  back,  but  not, 

Not  the  six  hundred. 


Cannon  to  right  of  them, 

Cannon  to  left  of  them,  40 

Cannon  behind  them 

Volley 'd  and  thunder'd  ; 
Storm'd  at  with  shot  and  shell, 
While  horse  and  hero  fell. 

They  that  had  fought  so  well  45 

Came  thro'  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Back  from  the  mouth  of  hell, 
All  that  was  left  of  them. 

Left  of  six  hundred. 


342  THE    VICTORIAN    PERIOD 

VI 

When  can  their  glory  fade  ?  •  50 

O  the  wild  charge  they  made  ! 

All  the  world  wondered. 
Honor  the  charge  they  made  1 
Honor  the  Light  Brigade, 

Noble  six  hundred  !  55 

MILTON 

(alcaics) 

O  MIGHTY-MOUTH 'd  inventor  of  harmonies, 
O  skill'd  to  sing  of  Time  or  Eternity, 
God-gifted  organ-voice  of  England, 
Milton,  a  name  to  resound  for  ages  ; 
Whose  Titan  angels,  Gabriel,  Abdiel,  5 

Starr'd  from  Jehovah's  gorgeous  armories, 
Tower,  as  the  deep-domed  empyrean 
Rings  to  the  roar  of  an  angel  onset  ! 
Me  rather  all  that  bowery  loneliness, 
The  brooks  of  Eden  mazily  murmuring,  10 

And  bloom  profuse  and  cedar  arches 
Charm  as  a  wanderer  out  in  ocean, 
Where  some  refulgent  sunset  of  India 
Streams  o'er  a  rich  ambrosial  ocean  isle, 

And  crimson-hued  the  stately  palm-woods  15 

Whisper  in  odorous  heights  of  even. 

CROSSING    THE    BAR 

Sunset  and  evening  star. 

And  one  clear  call  for  me  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  moaning  of  the  bar, 

When  I  put  out  to  sea, 


TENNYSON  343 

But  such  a  tide  as  moving  seems  asleep,  5 

Too  full  for  sound  and  foam, 
When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 

Turns  again  home. 

Twilight  and  evening  bell. 

And  after  that  the  dark  !  10 

And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell, 

When  I  embark  ; 

For  tho'  from  out  our  bourne  of  Time  and  Place 

The  flood  may  bear  me  far, 
I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face  15 

When  I  have  crost  the  bar. 


NOTES 

GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 

Now  Welcom  Somer.     2.    overshake,  shaken  off. 
5.    s/ziale follies,  little  birds.  9.    viakc,  mate. 

What  form  of  lyric  does  this  exemplify?  See  Johnson's  Forms  of 
Efiglish  Poetry,  pp.  302-304. 

How  does  the  verse  form  affect  the  apparent  spontaneity  of  the  poem.'' 

The  Prologue.     11.    cor  ages,  hearts. 
14.  feme  lialwes,  distant  shrines. 

16.  Caunterbitry .     Where  is  Canterbury? 

17.  holy  blisfiil  >/iarfir,  Thomas  a  Becket. 
20.    Soidhwerk.     Where  is  this? 

42.    ivol  I  first  biginne.     Why  does  Chaucer  begin  with  the  Knight? 

51-66.  /^Z/i'^ww^^/r^?,  Alexandria  ;  Pruce,  Prussia;  Z.tV/t'w,  Lithuania; 
Ruce,  Russia ;  Gernade,  Grenada ;  Algezir,  Algeciras,  in  Spain ;  Bel- 
marye,  a  town  in  Africa;  Lyeys,  Satalye,  Tramissene,  Palatye,  towns  in 
Asia  Minor;   G^r<?/(?  6V^,  Mediterranean. 

75.   gipoun,  shirt. 

76."  bismotered  with  his  habergeomi,  stained  by  his  coat  of  mail. 

81.  seyiit  Loy,  St.  Eligius,  the  patron  saint  of  goldsmiths.  Why 
should  she  invoke  this  saint? 

85.  fetisly,  skillfully.  93.   lest,  pleasure.  95-  coppe,  cup. 

108.    wastel-breed,  cake-bread,  bread  of  the  best  quality. 

no.  yerde.     Cf._)/a;'(^j//(;>^  and  ^fl!r</,  a  nautical  term. 

112.    wiinpel,  face  cloth.  113.    trctys,  well-formed. 

120.  A  peire  of  bedes,  gauded,  etc.,  a  string  of  beads,  of  which  every 
eleventh  was  a  large  green  one.     Why  did  she  carry  these? 

127.    venerye,  hunting. 

134.  seint  Maiire  .  .  .  seiiit  Beneit.  The  reule  (rule)  of  St.  Maur 
and  that  of  St.  Benedict  were  the  oldest  and  strictest  forms  of  monastic 
discipline. 

345 


346  NOTES 

145.   wood,  insane.  147.    swinken,  work. 

148.    As  Austyii  bit.     St.  Augustine  made  his  cathedral  clergy  live 
strictly,  like  the  monks. 
150.  pricasoiir,  hard  rider. 

154-155.  purfiled  .  .  .  'Z£////;  _^'v-/j',  edged  with  gray  fur. 
162.    stepe,  large.  163.  forneys  of  a  leed,  cauldron. 

166.  for-pyned,  wasted.  169.    Clerk,  university  student. 

174.    over  est  coiertepy,  outer  short  coat. 

180.  fithele,  or  gay  saiitrye,  musical  instruments. 

181.  phdosophre.  The  word  is  used  in  a  double  sense  —  alchemist 
and  philosopher.     Explain  the  humor. 

194.    scathe,  harm. 

198.  offring,  an  allusion  to  the  custom  on  'Relic  Sunday/  when  the 
congregation  went  up  to  the  altar  to  kiss  the  relics. 

213-214.    At  Rome,  etc.     These  were  all  famous  shrines. 

216.    Gat-tothed,  with  teeth  set  far  apart.  233.   sythes,  times. 

261.    So  that  the  wolf,  etc.     Cf.  Lycidas,  11.  1 16-129. 

294.    Chepe,  Cheapside.  305.   herberive,  inn. 

326.    avys,  consideration.  335.    whyloiii,  formerly. 

The  metrical  form  is  original  with  Chaucer.  What  other  poets  have 
employed  it,  and  in  what  poems? 

Does  Chaucer  fulfill  the  promise  contained  in  lines  36-40? 

Illustrate  from  the  introductory  lines  what  is  meant  by  saying  that 
Chaucer  is  the  '  first  great  poet  who  really  loved  outward  nature  as  the 
source  of  conscious  pleasurable  emotion.'' 

Chaucer  has  been  called  the  most  literal  of  poets.  Does  he  portray 
life  accurately?  Are  the  personages  he  describes  types  or  individuals? 
Would  it  be  correct  to  call  them  individualized  types? 

With  which  of  the  characters  does  he  seem  most  in  sympathy? 

What  lines  seem  most  satiric,  most  ironical?  Is  Chaucer  ever 
cynical? 

When  Chaucer  describes  anything,  it  is  usually  by  one  of  those  simple 
and  obvious  epithets  or  qualities  that  are  so  easy  to  miss.  Select  a 
few  of  the  best  examples  of  character  portrayal. 

Which  one  of  the  Pilgrims  disproves  the  truth  of  Leigh  Hunt's 
remark  that  'the  Knight  is  the  only  character  in  Chaucer  that  seems 
faultless '  ? 

Note  the  importance  in  the  portrayal  of  each  character  of  the  last 
lines  of  the  description. 


NOTES  347 

Which  of  lines  126-168  do  you  consider  most  effective  in  the  descrip- 
tion? 

Note  the  skillful  transitions  between  the  different  groups  of  lines. 

Lowell  says  that  Chaucer's  descriptive  passages  are  remarkable  for 
that  combination  of  energy  and  simplicity  which  is  among  the  rarest 
gifts  in  literature.     Justify  this  statement. 

BALLADS 

Kemp  Owyne.     Characterize  the  movement  of  the  ballad. 

Does  it  seem  to  have  been  composed  to  be  sung  ? 

What  can  you  say  of  the  rhymes  used? 

What  qualities  of  the  fairy  tale  distinguish  this  ballad? 

Compare  this  with  other  ballads  in  the  management  of  the  repetend. 

Helen  of  Kirconnell.  Compare  this  ballad,  in  its  simplicity,  direct- 
ness, and  charming  crudeness,  with  any  modern  literary  ballad, 
such  as  Longfellow's  The  Wreck  of  the  Hesperus.,  and  point  out  the 
differences. 

What  may  you  conclude  about  the  state  of  society  at  the  time  these 
ballads  were  written  ? 

Why  were  the  best  ballads  composed  in  the  borderland  of  Scotland 
and  England? 

Point  out  what  Lowell  calls  the  'shuddering  compression'  of 
lines  5-9. 

What  stanza  best  exemplifies  the  quality  of  swiftness  of  movement? 
Which  shows  most  savage  sincerity  of  feeling? 

Robin  Hood  and  Guy  of  Gisborne.     i.   shawes,  groves. 

I.   sheene,  bright.      i.    shradds,  coppices.     5.   woodwcele,  wood  lark. 

6.    a /^w^,  of  linden.         7.    wighL  strong.         12.    ■z£/r^-'(:>^^?/,  avenged. 

13.    Sweavens,  dreams.  17.    Buske,  dress. 

29.   captill-hyde,  horse  hide.      36.  ffarley,  strange.      50.  slade,  glade. 

59.   veiwe,  yew.  66.    booie,  aid.  95-  wilfi/ll,  astray. 

96.   iyde,  time.  no.   sieven,  hour.  in.    shroggs,  twigs. 

113.   /;/  twinn,  apart.  150.  ffettled.  prepared. 

151.    reacheles,  careless.  156.   may,  maid. 

161.  awkwarde,  backhanded.  This  was  conventionally  the  fatal 
stroke  in  ballads.  186.   lowe,  hillock.  207.    steven,  voice. 

212.   belive,  soon.  218.    shrift,  confession. 

224.   rawstye  by  the  roote,  clotted  at  the  butt. 

Does  the  writer's  personality  intrude  upon  the  ballad  ? 


348  NOTES 

Notice  that  his  sympathy  is  with  Robin  Hood.     Why? 

What  are  the  qualities  in  Robin  Hood  that  would  make  him  appeal 
to  the  crowd  ? 

What  lines  illustrate  the  religious  or  the  superstitious  nature  of  the 
foresters? 

What  is  the  purpose  of  the  first  two  stanzas? 

Point  out  passages  where  the  method  of  narration  seems  especially 
naive. 

Where  does  the  story  move  most  rapidly? 

Note  the  use  of  common  words  in  common  order. 

What  phrases  are  repeated?     What  passages  show  parallel  structure? 

Alliterative  phrases  form  one  of  the  conventional  marks  of  the  ballad. 
Point  out  some  such  plirases. 

Do  the  ballads  show  much  imagination  in  the  figures  of  speech  em- 
ployed? 

WYATT   AND    SURREY 

Wyatt  and  Surrey  are  appropriately  classed  together  in  literary  history 
because  they  began  that  important  period  known  as  the  era  of  Italian 
influence.  Perhaps  their  most  important  service  was  the  introduction 
and  naturalization  of  the  Italian  sonnet. 

Their  poems  were  first  printed  in  a  collection  of  verse  called  Tottel's 
Miscellany,  i557' 

Which  of  these  two  sonnets  shows  more  poetic  feeling?  Which  is 
more  reflective  and  sententious?  Which  shows  more  liveliness,  grace, 
picturesqueness?  Which  contains  the  more  clumsy  or  obscure  lines? 
Which  is  the  more  masculine  in  tone?  Which  author  is  the  better 
metrist?     In  which  is  there  an  abuse  of  alliteration? 

SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH 

The  Lie.  Though  the  authorship  of  this  poem  has  been  disputed, 
it  is  now  generally  assigned  to  Raleigh.  Tradition  says  he  wrote  it  on 
the  night  before  his  death. 

2.    tirrant,  errand.  16.  faction^  political  party. 

25.    brave  it  uwst,  are  most  ostentatious. 

44.   fickle  points  of  niceness,  uncertain  and  trivial  questions. 

49.    Physic.     Meaning?     Qi.  pJiysician. 

How  in  this  poem  is  Raleigh's  penetrating,  satiric  temper  shown? 


NOTES  349 

Does  the  poem  show  a  morbid  disgust  with  life,  or  a  noble  disdain  of  it  ? 

Discuss  and  illustrate  the  extreme  energy  and  conciseness  of  expres- 
sion, pointing  out  the  balanced  structure  of  some  of  the  lines. 

Comment  upon  the  simile  in  lines  7-8.  Is  it  homely  or  far-fetched? 
Is  it  used  to  lend  force,  or  clearness,  or  beauty  ? 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  feminine  rhymes  in  the  seventh  stanza? 

What  facts  of  Raleigh's  life  help  to  justify  this  indictment  of  Eliza- 
bethan society? 

Even  such  is  Time.  These  lines,  Oldys  tells  us  in  his  Life  of  Raleigh, 
were  found  in  Raleigh's  Bible  at  the  Gatehouse  Prison  after  his  exe- 
cution. 

What  is  the  significance  of  the  tradition  that  so  many  of  Raleigh's 
poems  were  written  the  night  before  his  death  ? 

EDMUND    SPENSER 

Prothalamion.  This  is  the  last  complete  poem  by  Spenser  which  is 
extant.  Its  complete  title  was:  Prothalaiiiion,  or  a  Spoitsall  Vei'se 
made  by  Edjii.  Spenser,  in  honour  of  Hie  double  marriage  of  the  tivo 
honorable  and  vertnous  ladies,  the  Ladie  Elizabeth  and  the  Ladie 
Katherine  Somerset,  daughters  to  the  rigid  honourable  the  tarle  of 
Worcester  and  espoused  to  the  two  wort  hie  gentlemen  M.  Henry  Gilford 
and  M.  William  Peter,  Esquyeres. 

3.    delay,  mollify.  4.    Titan's.     Who  was  Titan  ? 

6-9.  Explain  this  reference  to  Spenser's  own  experience  by  reading 
Prosopopoia  :  or  Mother  Hubberds  Tale,  11.  905-918. 

22.  greenish..  Why  ?  loose  nntyde.  It  was  customary  for  maiden- 
brides  to  wear  their  hair  unbound.  27.  feateously.     Meaning  ? 

30-33.  What  does  each  of  the  flowers  symbolize  ?  Cf.  Lycidas, 
11.  135  ff.  33.    vermeil.     Meaning  ? 

38.   /^^,  a  small  stream  flowing  into  the  Thames.     43.  WhowasLeda? 

60.    them  seemed.    '  Them  '  is  dative.  63.    teeme.     Meaning? 

67.    bred  of  Somers-heat,  a  punning  allusion  to  the  name  Somerset. 

95.   couplement,vix\\on.  99.    All  loves  dislike,  d\'ii^.?,Xe  (or  \o\t. 

no.    undersong.     Meaning? 

128.    Name  some  other  English  poets  who  were  born  in  London. 

132.    Who  were  the  Knights  Templar  ? 

139.  that  great  lord.  Lord  Leicester.  In  which  of  Scott's  romances 
does  he  figure  ? 


150 


NOTES 


145.    Who  was  the  Earl  of  Essex  ? 

177.    tide.     Meaning  ?     Cf.     '  Yule  tide.' 

What  is  meant  by  saying  that  Spenser's  muse  is  more  idyllic  than 
lyrical  ?     How  does  this  poem  illustrate  the  statement  ? 

Spenser  has  succeeded  better  than  any  other  English  poet  in  finding 
or  inventing  metrical  forms  best  fitted  to  express  his  thought.  Point 
out  the  special  fitness  of  this  stanza  form. 

Is  the  poet  ever  cramped  in  the  expression  of  his  thought  through 
the  needs  of  the  verse  form  ? 

Select  some  especially  melodious  lines. 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  recurring  refrain  ? 

How  do  the  '  run  on  '  lines  affect  the  flowing  movement  of  the  verse  ? 

What  is  the  rhyme  scheme  ? 

What  seems  to  be  Spenser's  favorite  form  of  alliteration  ? 

Is  the  alliteration  too  evident  in  lines  104-105  ? 

How  does  the  influence  of  the  classics  appear  in  the  poem  ? 

Why  has  Spenser  been  called  '  the  poet's  poet '  ? 

The  Faerie  Queene  is  one  of  the  longest  poems  ever  written.  Though 
only  a  little  more  than  half  finished,  it  consists  of  some  four  thousand 
nine-line  stanzas.  According  to  Spenser's  plan,  twelve  knights,  repre- 
sentino-  twelve  virtues,  were  to  have  been  sent  on  adventures  from  the 
court  of  Gloriana,  Queen  of  Fairyland.  The  second  book  tells  the 
story  of  Guyon,  who  represents  chastity. 

19.  a  Lady.  Phaedria,  the  bright  or  glittering  one,  who  represents 
senseless  mirth  and  idleness.  57-    agnize,  adorn. 

93.    voyd,  uninhabited. 

loi.  Lowell  thinks  this  line  characterizes  the  feeling  Spenser's  poe- 
try gives  us.     Can  you  see  why  ? 

109  ff.   Why  is  the  movement  of  Stanza  XIII  especially  musical  ? 

126-135.  Spenser  makes  Phsdria  speak  of  the  flowers  in  a  way  that 
recalls  Matthew  vi.  26-29. 

137.   /7'^7wr^-^i'^///6-^,  the  fleur-de-lys,  or  iris.      142.    Belamom-e,  \o\'tr. 

150.  Milton  undoubtedly  had  this  passage  in  mind  when  he  makes 
Comus  use  the  same  argument  {Co/niis,  11.  706  ff.). 

The  meter  in  the  Faerie  Queene  is  Spenser's  own  invention.  De- 
scribe fully  this  Spenserian  stanza.  Note,  especially  in  the  second 
stanza,  how  by  the  variety  of  the  pauses  Spenser  has  avoided  monotony. 
What  is  the  effect  of    the   twelve-syllabled  line  at  the  end  of  each 


NOTES  351 

stanza  ?      Do    any   words    seem    coined   to   meet    the    needs    of    the 
rhyme  ? 

Study  the  use  of  alliteration.  Point  out  some  subtle  sound  combina- 
tions. Do  the  alliterations  ever  become  obtrusive  ?  What  different 
purposes  are  here  served  by  the  use  of  the  device  ? 

Spenser  has  been  called  the  most  fluent  of  our  poets.  Would  this 
poem  have  been  improved  by  greater  conciseness  in  the  expression? 

What  lines  seem  best  to  exemplify  Spenser's  keen  sensitiveness  to 
beauty  ? 

How  does  Spenser's  imagination  diff"er  from  Chaucer's? 

How  does  this  selection  help  to  confirm  the  belief  expressed  by  Leigh 
Hunt,  that  if  Spenser  had  not  been  a  great  poet,  he  would  have  been  a 
great  painter? 

SIR    PHILIP    SIDNEY 

A  Ditty.  This  little  song  Sidney  afterward  expanded  into  a  sonnet, 
and  inserted  into  the  text  of  the  Aixadia.  The  student  may  find  it 
interesting  to  compare  the  two. 

How  does  this  poem  illustrate  the  fact  that  the  lyric  reflects  a  mood, 
rather  than  symbolizes  an  event  or  presents  a  picture  ? 

What  feelings  or  emotions,  other  than  those  of  love,  may  find  expres- 
sion in  lyric  poetry  ? 

Sonnet  XXXI.  From  Astrophel  and  Stella,  a  series  of  sonnets  and 
songs  addressed  to  Lady  Penelope  Devereux,  who  afterward  became 
Lady  Rich. 

Are  there  any  distinctly  marked  divisions  in  this  sonnet  ? 

To  what  does  it  owe  its  peculiarly  beautiful  melody  ? 

JOHN    LYLY 

Apelles'  Song.  How  does  this  poem  illustrate  what  has  been  called 
the  '  airy  lightness  '  of  Lyly's  lyrics  ? 

Which  is  more  characteristic  of  this  lyric,  earnestness  or  grace? 
What  implied  compliment  to  Campaspe  is  contained  in  the  poem  ? 
What  in  the  poem  is  distinctly  Elizabethan  ? 

MICHAEL   DRAYTON 

Sonnet  LXI.  Is  the  conclusion  of  the  sonnet  as  good  poetically  as 
the  beginning  ? 

Compare  the  thought  with  that  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnet  CXVI. 


352  NOTES 

To   the   Cambro-Britons  and  their   Harp,  his    Ballad   of  Agincourt. 

Why  should  Drayton  dedicate  the  poem  to  the  Cambro-Britons? 

17-19.    Compare  with  Shakespeare's  Henry  V,  IV,  iii,  79  ff. 

For  an  account  of  the  battle  of  Agincourt  see  Gardiner's  Student's 
History  of  England,  p.  302,  or  Green's  History  of  the  English  People, 
I,  542.     How  accurate  is  Drayton's  description  of  the  battle? 

48.    Explain  this  line. 

82.   Bilbos.    Meaning  ?    In  what  other  sense  is  the  word  employed? 

113.    Crispin'' s  day.     When? 

In  what  martial  lyric  does  Tennyson  employ  the  meter  of  this  poem  ? 

In  what  ballad  does  Longfellow  use  it? 

What  lines  best  illustrate  Drayton's  skill  in  the  use  of  proper  names 


in  verse 


Point  out  the  most  vigorous  lines. 
What  elements  of  the  ballad  characterize  this  poem  ? 
Compare  the  close  with  that  of  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 
Why  have  some  good  critics  regarded  this  as  the  greatest  war  poem 
in  English  ? 

WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE 

Sonnets.     XXIX.   What  is  the  Shakespearian  sonnet  form? 

What  are  the  different  moods  here  portrayed?  Are  the  transitions 
from  one  mood  to  another  well  made? 

Which  do  you  consider  the  best  chosen  adjective? 

Which  do  you  regard  as  the  most  suggestive  line? 

How  is  an  unusual  beauty  of  movement  produced  in  line  1 1  ? 

XXX.  Which  sonnet  contains  the  more  fine  phrases,  this  or  the  pre- 
ceding? 

What  effective  use  of  assonance  and  alliteration  may  be  noted? 

XXXIII.    Select  the  most  suggestive  words  and  phrases. 

Study  the  changes  in  movement  through  the  sonnet. 

What  is  the 'pathetic  fallacy'?  See  Johnson's  Elements  of  Liter- 
ary Criticis7n,  p.  241.     Should  we  condemn  its  use  in  this  sonnet? 

LXXIII.  Study  the  structure  of  this  sonnet,  noting  its  development 
through  comparisons.  Which  seems  to  you  the  most  suggestive  of  the 
three  comparisons;  which  the  most  beautiful? 

Which  line  seems  to  you  the  most  imaginative? 

CXVI.  Johnson's  Elements  of  Literary  Criticism,  p.  165  ff.,  con- 
tains an  excellent  discussion  of  the  '  thought  movement '  of  this  sonnet. 


NOTES  353 

What  is  the  emphatic  word  of  line  9? 

Tennyson  in  Locksley  Hall  has  expressed  the  same  thought  of  the 
permanence  of  true  love. 

How  many  sonnets  did  Shakespeare  write,  and  to  whom  do  they  seem 
to  be  addressed? 

Which  of  those  studied  do  you  consider  the  most  beautiful,  and  why? 

What  are  some  of  the  recurrent  ideas  in  these  sonnets? 

What  phrases  are  the  most  memorable? 

A  Madrigal.  The  authenticity  of  this  poem  has  been  questioned, 
though  it  appeared  with  several  of  Shakespeare's  poems  in  the  poetical 
miscellany  called  The  Passionate  Pilgri»i,  1599. 

Does  the  accent  fall  upon  the  emphatic  words  ? 

Note  the  meter  and  its  fitness  for  the  expression  of  the  balanced 
thoughts  of  the  poem. 

Find  other  illustrations  of  the  fondness  of  the  Elizabethans  for  arti- 
ficial balance. 

When  icicles,  etc.     9.    keel,  stir. 

II.    saw,  long  story,  illustration.     Cf.  As  Vou  Like  It,  II,  vii,  156. 

14.    crabs,  apples. 

What  line  serves  as  a  refrain  ? 

A  good  refrain  should  suggest  the  emotion  of  which  the  lyric  as  a 
whole  is  the  expression.     Is  this  a  good  refrain  ? 

Point  out  the  concrete  and  suggestive  words  in  the  poem,  and  tell 
what  pictures  they  call  forth. 

Tell  me,  where  is  Fancy  Bred.  Notice  that  each  of  these  songs  voices 
the  spirit  of  the  play  in  which  it  is  found.  Thus,  'Tell  me,  where  is 
fancy  bred  '  is  characteristic  of  the  comedy  (  The  Merchant  of  Venice') 
whose  chief  theme  is  love ;  while  the  two  songs  from  As  Yoit  Like 
It  sound  the  lighter  and  the  more  somber  tones  of  that  comedy  in 
which  hatred  ties  the  knot  that  love  unties.  Similarly,  'Cup  us  till 
the  world  goes  round '  voices  the  spirit  of  the  full-blooded  play 
{Antony  and  Cleopatra)  in  which  it  figures. 

1.  fancy,  synonymous  with  love. 

Why  the  change  in  the  meter  in  the  last  four  lines  ? 

Scan  the  last  two  lines. 

Under  the  Greenwood  Tree.  3.  turti  his  merry  note  unto,  adapt  it 
to.     Cf.  to  turn  a  tune. 

EN("..  POEMS  —  23 


354  NOTES 

What  is  the  purpose  of  the  irregular  movement  of  line  5? 
Do  you  feel  that  this  is  the  song  of  foresters  or  of  court  folk  in  the 
greenwood? 

Blow,  blow,  thou  Winter  Wind.  2.  unkind,  unnatural.  Cf.  Hamlet, 
I.  ii.  65. 

In  what  respect  may  this  and  the  preceding  poem  be  called  com- 
panion pieces  ? 

How  does  this  song  differ  in  its  spirit  from  Winter  ?  Which  is  the 
more  realistic? 

Is  there  any  similarity  in  the  form  of  the  two  lyrics  ? 

Which  do  you  consider  the  more  beautiful  ? 

Intensity  of  feeling  and  perfection  of  form  are  in  general  character- 
istic of  the  lyric.     Are  they  both  present  here  ? 

Sigh  no  more,  Ladies.  It  is  noticeable  that  Shakespeare  takes 
occasion  to  compliment  himself  upon  its  excellence  in  the  words  of  Don 
Pedro  that  follow,  '  By  my  troth,  a  good  song.' 

9.  nioe.  An  old  form  used  often  by  Shakespeare,  but  usually  altered 
by  modern  editors  to  '  more.' 

10.  duDips.     Meaning? 

12.    leavy,  the  regular  form  of  the  word  in  Shakespeare. 

0  Mistress  Mine.  Compare  the  sentiment  and  spirit  of  this  song  with 
that  of  the  other  Shakespearian  love  lyrics,  especially  with  the  preceding 
song. 

Take,  0  take  those  Lips  Away.     Is  the  singer  a  man  or  a  woman? 
Study  the  combination  of  sounds,  one  of  the  most  masterly  in  the 
language. 

Cup  us  till  the  World  goes  Round.  2.  eyne,  an  old  plural.  Cf.  kine. 
Johnson  defines  pink  eye  as  "a  small  eye.'  Here  the  allusion  is  to 
the  half-shut  eyes  of  sleepy  intoxication. 

3.  fats.    Meaning? 

5.   till  the  world  goes  round.     Meaning? 

Of  what  mood  is  the  drinking  song  the  expression? 

For  what  poetic  excellencies  should  we  look  in  a  good  drinking  song? 

Compare  the  spirit  and  movement  of  this  song  with  that  of  IVillie 
Brew'd  a  Peck  «'  Alant,  by  Burns. 

Why  are  good  convivial  lyrics  so  rare  in  English  as  compared  with 
German  poetry? 


NOTES  355 

Hark,  Hark  !  the  Lark!  Note  the  richness  and  beauty  of  suggestion 
in  this  little  morning  song. 

In  what  line  does  the  movement  best  suit  the  sentiment  expressed? 
What  famous  composer  has  set  this  song  to  music? 

Fear  no  more  the  Heat  o'  the  Sun.  This  dirge  is  sung  by  two  young 
princes  over  the  body  of  Fidele,  supposedly  a  page,  but  really  their 
sister  Imogen. 

II.  sceptre,  learning,  physic.  For  what  does  each  of  these  three 
words  stand  ?     Are  they  arranged  in  a  climax  ? 

14.   tJmnder-stone.    Meaning?  18.    G9;/j/^//,  join  thee  in  death. 

19.   exorciser.    Meaning?  21.    unlaid,  by  prayers  or  charms. 

23.   consummation.     What  does  this  word  suggest  more  ths-v-i  ending .^ 

What  means  are  employed  for  giving  the  poem  unity? 

Lines  5  and  6  have  been  considered  among  the  best  Shakespeare 
ever  wrote.     Why? 

How  is  a  change  of  spirit  indicated  in  the  last  stanza? 

Compare  with  the  tranquil  dignity  of  this  dirge  the  conceits  of  the 
dirge  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  V,  iii,  12  ff. 

Select  a  title  that  will  convey  the  spirit  of  the  poem. 

Where  the  Bee  Sucks.  What  elements  in  Ariel's  nature  are  empha- 
sized in  the  last  lines,  and  how? 

A  Sea  Dirge.     What  words  in  this  dirge  best  characterize  its  tone  ? 
Contrast  the  spirit  of  this  dirge  with  that  of  the  one  from  Cymbelinc. 
How  do  these  Elizabethan  songs  differ  from  those  written  to-day? 
Which  of  these  lyrics  would  be  most  easily  set  to  music? 
Which  of  them  rise  to  a  climax? 

Which  do  you  consider  the  boldest  or  most  daring  figure  in  these 
songs? 

THOMAS    CAMPION 

Fortunati  Nimium,  'fortunate  beyond  measure.'      The  phrase  is  bor- 
rowed from  Vergil,  Georg.  II,  458. 
2.   stdl,  always. 

8.  silver  penny.     Silver  pennies  were  in  use  till  1609. 

9.  nappy  ale,  strong  ale,  causing  sleepiness. 

12.    crabs.     Meaning?  19.    tuttics,  nosegays. 

32.    silly,  simple,  happy.     Cf.  German  saelig. 


356  NOTES 

Point  out  the  distinctively  English  coloring  of  this  old  lyric,  e.g.  in 
lines  i6  and  23. 

Observe  the  note  of  sincerity  in  the  praise  of  country  life. 

Compare  with  this  Marlowe's  Come  live  with  Me  and  be  my  Love 
(in  Palgrave's  Golden  Treasury).     Which  is  the  more  conventional? 

BEN    JONSON 

To  Celia.  Point  out  the  evidence  here  that  Jonson's  songs  com- 
bine with  sincerity  and  intensity  of  emotion  the  utmost  simphcity  and 
musical  quality  of  expression. 

Should  you  characterize  the  song  as  spontaneous? 

Which  is  the  more  graceful  stanza? 

Which  expresses  the  more  beautiful  '  conceit;  this  poem  or  Apclles' 
Song? 

Hymn  to  Diana.     Explain  the  mythological  allusions. 

How  does  this  use  of  mythology  affect  the  apparent  sincerity  of  the 
Hymn  ? 

Indicate  some  of  the  most  beautiful  repetitions  of  vowel  sounds  in 
the  poem. 

JOHN    DONNE 

A  Hymn  to  God  the  Father.  This  poem,  Walton  tells  us  in  his  life 
of  Donne,  the  author  wrote  during  an  illness.  He  tells  us  further  that 
Donne  had  it  'set  to  a  most  grand  and  solemn  tune,'  and  that  it  was 
often  sung  to  the  organ  by  the  choristers  of  St.  Paul's  Church. 

8.    door.   What  is  the  exact  meaning  as  used  here? 

15-16.    What  do  you  think  of  the  word  play  in  these  lines? 

Does  the  rugged  meter  contribute  to  the  effect  of  sincerity  and  ear- 
nestness?    How? 

Point  out  how  Donne's  energy  and  fervor  shine  through  even  the 
obscurity  and  artificialities  of  the  diction. 

Indicate  some  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  the  effective  use  of 
words. 

Notice  the  firm  structure  of  the  poem,  and  show  how  the  effect  of 
compactness  is  secured. 

What  two  differing  tendencies  in  the  poetry  of  the  seventeenth  century 
are  represented  by  the  poetry  of  Donne  and  that  of  Suckling  respec- 
tively? See  Saintsbury's  History  of  Elizabetluin  Literature,  or  Master- 
man's  The  Age  of  Milton. 


NOTES  357 

ROBERT    HERRICK 

The  Argument  of  the  Hesperides.  3.  hock-carts  .  .  .  wakes.  Look 
up  in  the  dictionary. 

8.   ambergris.     Meaning  ? 

With  which  of  the  two  great  political  parties  of  the  time  do  you 
imagine  Herrick  sympathized  ? 

Which  of  the  details  introduced  suggests  most  vividly  to  you  Eng- 
land of  the  seventeenth  century  ? 

Which  line  should  you  select  as  the  most  beautifully  phrased  ? 

The  Hesperides  is  a  collection  of  nearly  thirteen  hundred  poems 
almost  without  orderly  arrangement.  Into  what  groups  should  you 
conclude,  judging  from  these  lines,  that  they  might  be  divided  ? 

To  Daffodils.  2.  haste  away  so  soon.  The  daflfodil  is  one  of  the 
earliest  spring  flowers.  Cf.  Lycidas,  I,  150,  and  Shakespeare's  IVinter's 
Tale,  IV,  iv,  118. 

.   .   .  daffodils, 
That  come  before  the  swalloiv  dares,  and  take 
The  zvinds  of  March  with  beauty. 

What  qualities  lend  this  poem  its  exquisite  charm?  Should  you 
describe  the  poet's  mood  as  that  of  sensuous  reverie? 

GEORCxE    HERBERT 

Virtue.  Herbert  has  been  called  'the  poet  of  a  meditative  and  sober 
piety  that  is  catholic  alike  in  the  wideness  of  its  appeal  and  in  its  love 
of  symbol  and  imagery.'  How  does  this  poem  help  to  justify  this 
estimate  ? 

Which  do  you  consider  the  most  graceful  stanza? 

Herbert's  imagery  shows  much  over-elaboration,  after  the  manner  of 
Donne,  whose  disciple  he  was.  How  does  this  fact  appear  evident  from 
the  last  stanza  of  this  poem? 

EDMUND   WALLER 

Old  Age.  These  are  the  closing  lines  of  Waller's  poem  Divine  Lo7te, 
dictated,  it  is  said,  on  his  deathbed.  No  other  English  poets,  except 
Raleigh  and  Tennyson,  have  taken  leave  of  life  in  words  of  such  digni- 
fied composure.  The  inscription  upon  his  tomb  describes  him  as  inter 
f)oetas  sni  teniporis  facile  priiiceps.     This  estimate  of  Waller  as  the 


358  NOTES 

greatest  poet  of  his  generation  represents  the  deliberate  verdict  of  the 
age  of  the  Restoration  upon  his  work. 
5.    affection,  prejudice. 

Waller  had  an  important  share  in  the  development  of  the  heroic 
couplet  in  English  verse.  Compare  his  use  of  it,  as  regards  strength 
and  finish,  with  any  dozen  lines  from  Pope. 

What  do  you  think  of  the  '  conceit '  in  lines  7-8  ? 

Does  the  adjective  that  Pope  applies  to  Waller's  verse  seem  particukrly 
appropriate?     See  Pope's  Essay  on  Criticism,  1.  161. 

JOHN    MILTON 

L'Allegro  and  II  Penseroso  were  written  at  Horton,  whither  Milton 
went  after  leaving  Cambridge.  The  two  poems,  which  should  be 
studied  together,  are  not  to  be  thought  of  as  antithetical.  They  sim- 
ply represent  different  moods  of,  perhaps,  the  same  man.  Taken  to- 
gether, they  form  a  comparison  of  the  two  kinds  of  enjoyment  —  that 
arising  from  innocent  high  spirits,  and  the  deeper  pleasure  that  results 
from  meditation. 

L'AUegro.     2.    V<I\\o  \v?i.%  Cerberiis  ? 

Here,  as  often,  Milton  makes  his  own  mythology.  According  to 
classical  mythology  Erebus  (Darkness)  was  the  wife  of  Nox  (Night). 

3.    Stygian.     Meaning  ?  5.    uncouth,  unknown. 

17.  some  sager,  Milton  himself  What  follows  is,  again,  Milton's 
own  mythology. 

29.    Who  was  Hebe? 

36.  nionntain-7iy7nph.  Why  is  Liberty  so  described  ?  Cf.  Words- 
worth's Thoughts  of  a  Briton  on  the  Subjugation  of  Switzerland. 

38.  crew.  What  change  in  meaning  has  this  word  undergone  since 
Milton's  day  ? 

45.    in  spite  of  sorrow,  to  spite  sorrow. 

47-48.    The  sweet-briar  and  the  eglantine  are  really  the  same  plant. 

55.    hoar  hill.     Why  'hoar'  ? 

67.  tells  his  tale,  counts  his  number  (of  sheep).  What  is  a  'teller' 
in  a  bank  ? 

71.  lawns,    open   pastures.         80.  cynosure.      Find   the   derivation. 

83.  These  names  and  those  found  in  lines  86-88  are  conventional 
pastoral  names  in  the  Classics. 

87.    bower.     Exact  meaning  ? 


NOTES  359 

94.    rebecks  sound.     What  was  a  rebeck  ? 

104.  friar''s  lantern.     Meaning  ? 

120.  weeds  of  peace.  In  what  modern  expression  is  this  old  mean- 
ing of  'weeds'  retained?  high  triumphs.  The  student  may  be  in- 
terested to  read  Bacon's  essay,  Of  Masks  and  Triumphs. 

126.  Tlie  English  poets  from  Ben  Jonson  down  have  mistaken  the 
Greek  word  tradc^pwv  (chaste,  modest)  for  saffron.  The  latter  is  a 
word  unknown  to  the  Greek  or  Latin  language.  It  comes  through  the 
French  safran  from  the  Arabic  zapliran.  The  '  saophron '  was 
a  girdle  worn  by  girls,  indicative  of  chastity,  and  not  yellow  or  saffron 
at  all. 

132.  Jonsoji's  learned  sock.  Ben  Jonson's  plays  are  comjiosed  accord- 
ing to  classical  standards,  and  show  his  wide  learning.  The  'sock' 
was  a  low  shoe  worn  by  the  Greek  comic  actors. 

133-134-  This  represents  the  prevalent  conception  of  Shakespeare 
during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 

136.  Lydian  airs.  Lydian  music  was  soft  and  voluptuous.  See 
Spenser,  Faerie  Queeiie,  III.  i,  40. 

138.  pierce.  This  word  in  Milton's  day  was  pronounced  so  as  to 
rhyme  with  verse. 

144.  Compare  Merchatd  of  Venice,  V,  i,  61. 

145.  Who  was  Orpheus  ? 

In  writing  line  125  may  Milton  have  been  thinking  of  the  last  scene 
of  As  You  Like  It  ?  What  other  line  in  the  poem  suggests  the  same 
play? 

Point  out  the  suggestiveness  of  such  phrases  as  '  wreathed  smiles, 
'  wrinkled  care.' 

How  does  line  89  prove  that  Milton  was  not  confining  himself  to  an 
account  of  the  pleasures  of  one  particular  day? 

To  what  country  pleasures  does  Milton  allude  in  lines  91 -i  16? 

Compare  the  pleasures  of  the  cheerful  man  with  those  suggested  in 
Paradise  Lost,  IX,  445-453. 

II  Penseroso.     3.    bested,  help. 

6.  fond.    In  what  modern  phrase  is  this  meaning  of  'fond'  retained? 
10.    Morphejts.      Who    was    he  ?     Cf.    morphine.     Read   Spenser, 
Faerie  Queene,  I,  i,  39-40. 

15.    weaker,  here  a  comparative. 

18.    Who  was  Prince  Memnon?    He  is  not  known  to  have  had  a  sister. 


36o  NOTES 

19.    Who  was  Cassiopea? 

23-24.  What  sources  of  joy  are  symbolized  by  Vesta  and  Saturn  ? 
This  ancestry  is  Milton's  own  invention. 

29.    Ida,  a  mountain  in  Crete,  one  of  Saturn's  favorite  haunts. 

33.  ^r«///,  purple.     35.   sable  stole^h\2>.c]<.\.\xxi\(i.    Cypress  lawn  is  crepe. 

36.    decent.     Meaning  ?  55.    hist,  a  verb,  to  bring  silently. 

56.    Who  was  Philomel  ?  57.   plight,  mood. 

59.  Cynthia.  Milton  has  given  to  Cynthia,  the  moon,  the  dragons 
anciently  assigned  to  Demeter. 

64.   woo,  bend.         74.    curfew.      Find  the   derivation  of  the  word. 

83.  the  bell/nan^s,  etc.  The  night  watchman,  wlio  went  about 
ringing  a  bell  and  calling  out  the  hours,  ended  each  announcement 
with  the  singing  of  a  verse. 

87.  oiitwatch  the  Bear,  sit  up  all  the  night.  This  constellation  does 
not  set. 

88.  Hermes,  Hermes  Trismegistus.     Who  was  he  ? 

98.    sceptred  pall,  Yoy3.\  robe. .  102.    bitskined  stage.     Meaning? 

104-105.    Who  was  Musasus? 

109.  Chaucer,  whose  Sqjiiere''s  Tale  was  left  unfinished.  It  was 
completed  by  Spenser,  Faerie  Qieeene,  IV,  11  and  iii. 

116.  Milton  refers  to  Spenser  and  to  the  Italian  poets,  Ariosto  and 
Tasso. 

124.    Attic  boy,  Cephalus.  134.    browti,  dark. 

134.    Sylvan.     Who  was  Sylvanus? 

147-150.   What  is  the  meaning  of  these  lines? 

156.  studiojcs  cloister^s  pale.  Does  Milton  mean  a  university  or  a 
monastery  ? 

The  student  may  be  interested  to  determine  what  suggestions  Milton 
may  have  derived  from  the  song  in  Fletcher's  The  Nice  Valour.  This 
song  is  reprinted  in  the  notes  to  //  Penseroso  in  Hale's  Longer  English 
Poems. 

Why  are  vain,  deluding  joys  spoken  of  as  having  no  father?  May 
it  be  because  they  are  thought  of  as  undisciplined  ? 

Spenser  (^Faerie  Queene,  I,  x,  46)  portrays  Contemplation  as  an  old 
man  ;  Milton  as  a  cherub.     Which  is  better  ? 

Into  what  three  groups  may  the  night's  reading  be  divided  ? 

What  word  near  the  close  of  the  poem  suggests  Milton's  persistent 
purpose  to  do  what  he  afterward  attempted  in  Paradise  Lost —  'justify 
the  ways  of  God  to  men  '  ? 


NOTES  361 

What  is  the  significance  of  Milton's  choosing  for  these  poems  Itahan 
titles  ? 

Compare  the  introductions  of  tlie  two  poems.  Whicli  seems  tlie 
more  conventional  ?     Is  there  any  trace  of  Puritanism  in  either  ? 

What  is  the  prevailing  meter  in  both,  and  what  variations  do  you 
observe  ? 

What  difference  is  there  in  the  music  preferred  by  the  cheerful  and 
the  contemplative  man  respectively? 

Note  the  difference  in  the  evening  pleasures  chosen  by  each. 

In  which  poem  does  the  first  personal  pronoun  often  occur?  What 
conclusion  would  you  draw  from  this  difference? 

What  other  indications  are  there  that  Mihon  liked  contemplation 
better  than  mirth  ? 

Of  what  significance  are  line  57  in  L\-Ulcgro  and  line  65  in  //  Pciiseroso 
in  deciding  which  poem  was  written  first? 

How  is  nature  treated  in  the  two  poems  —  as  reflecting  a  mood,  or 
is  it  described  for  its  own  sake  ? 

Illustrate  the  manner  in  which  Milton  tinges  his  descriptive  passages 
with  human  emotion  and  interest. 

Lycidas  was  inserted  in  the  second  of  two  small  volumes  of  poems 
in  Greek,  Latin,  and  English,  contributed  by  the  Cambridge  friends 
and  college  fellows  to  the  memory  of  Edward  King.  The  poem  is  a 
pastoral  elegy.  Theocritus,  Bion,  and  Vergil  are  among  the  masters 
whom  Milton  followed. 

iff.    Milton's  modesty  is.  no  doubt,  partly  conventional  and  assumed. 

5-7.  Compare  the  thought  suggested  by  Milton's  sonnet  On  /lis 
being  arrived  at  the  Age  of  Twcnty-tlircc. 

7.  compels.     Why  in  the  singular  rather  than  in  the  plural? 

8.  dead,  dead.  Note  the  repetition.  Find  other  cases  of  the  use  of 
repetition  and  describe  their  effect. 

13.  This  alliteration  in  w  was  a  favorite  one  with  Milton. 

15.  Who  were  the  nine  Muses  ;  and  what  was  the  Pierian  spring? 

25.  la-cvns.     Cf.  L" Allegro.,  1.  71. 

26.  See  Job  iii.  9. 

28.  gray-fly,  trumpet  fly. 

29.  battening.     Meaning? 

30.  In  the  first  draft  Milton  wrote,  'Oft  till  the  even-star  bright  .  .  . 
had  sloped  his  burnisht  wheel.'  Which  reading  do  you  prefer,  and 
why? 


362  NOTES 

34.  Distinguish  between  satyrs  and  fauns. 

35.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  identify  Damoetas  with  one  of 
Milton's  instructors  at  Cambridge.  The  name  is  used  by  Theocritus 
and  by  Vergil. 

38.    What  is  the  force  of  '  must  '.f" 
40.  gadding.     Exact  meaning? 

54.  Mona,  Anglesey.  'The  shaggy  top  is  the  high  interior  of 
Anglesey,  the  island  fastness  of  the  Druids,  once  thick  with  woods.' 
— Masson. 

55.  Deva.  The  river  Dee  forms  the  old  boundary  between  England 
and  Wales.  It  was  once  believed  that  by  some  changes  in  its  bed  or 
current  the  river  gave  the  inhabitants  of  the  region  through  which  it 
flowed  intimations  of  coming  good  or  ill. 

58.  Calliope.     See  Paradise  Lost,  VII,  32-38. 

59.  her  enchanting  son.     Why  is  this  adjective  employed? 
65.   What  is  meant  by  '  shepherd's  trade  '? 

70.    spirit,  to  be  scanned  as  one  syllable. 

72.  Milton  seems  to  mean  that  the  really  great  man  has  only  one 
human  weakness  —  the  ambition  to  be  famous. 

75.  Atropos  was  really  a  Fate,  not  a  Fury.  In  what  other  instances 
has  Milton  taken  liberties  with  classical  mythology? 

77.    Why  should  Phcvbus  reply? 

79.  foil.     Meaning? 

85-86.  These  rivers  are  associated  with  pastoral  poetry.  Mincius  is 
a  river  near  Vergil's  birthplace;  Arethuse,  a  spring  near  Syracuse  in 
Sicily,  where  Theocritus  lived. 

89.    herald  of  the  sea,  Tnlon. 

96.   Hippotades,  ^olus,  son  of  Hippotes. 

99.  Panope,  one  of  the  fifty  sea  nymphs,  daughters  of  Nereus.  Read 
Spenser,  Faerie  Queen,  IV,  XI,  49. 

103.  Camus,  a  personification  of  Cambridge  University  situated  on 
the  river  Cam. 

106.  Who  was  Hyacinth? 

108-131.  Upon  the  whole  passage  read  Ruskin,  Sesame  and  Lilies, 
paragraphs  20-25. 

142.  rathe.     Meaning?     Cf.  rather. 

143.  crow-toe,  the  hyacinth. 

149.  amaranthiis.  The  plant  was  the  ancient  emblem  of  immor- 
tality. 


NOTES  363 

151.  laureate.  Meaning?  Cf.  poet  laureate,  hearse.  For  deriva- 
tion see  Murray's  New  English  Dictionary. 

160.  fable  of  Bellerus  old,  place  fabled  to  have  been  the  haunt  of 
Bellerus,  a  personage  invented  by  Milton.  The  name  was  suggested  by 
the  Roman  name  of  Land's  End  —  Bellerium. 

162.    The  coast  of  Spain  is  referred  to. 

176.    nuptial  song.     See  Rev.  xiv.  3  and  xxi.  9. 

192.   twitched,  caught  up  as  if  in  haste,  having  tarried  too  long. 

How  does  Lycidas,  as  compared  with  V Allegro  and  //  Penseroso, 
show  in  Milton  an  increasing  seriousness? 

Is  the  elegy  an  expression  of  personal  grief  or  a  tribute  of  respect  ? 

Would  the  poem  have  gained  or  lost,  if  the  grief  expressed  had  been 
more  personal? 

Discuss  Dr.  Johnson's  charge  that  the  poem  is  both  artificial  and 
insincere. 

Indicate  the  changes  of  mood  of  the  poet  throughout  the  course  of 
the  elegy. 

Show  that  some  passages  in  the  poem  exhibit  an  increasing  fervor  of 
emotion. 

What  is  the  meter  of  Lycidas? 

Read  Longfellow's  sonnet  Milton,  and  illustrate  its  truth  from  this 
poem — ^particularly  the  lines  — 

So  in  majestic  cadence  rise  and  fall 
The  ?nighiy  zmdulations  of  thy  song. 

Point  out  ten  lines  of  blank  verse,  and  describe  the  effect  upon  the 
poem  of  the  occasional  lack  of  rhyme. 

What  rhyme  predominates  through  the  first  fourteen  lines,  and  what 
is  the  effect  of  the  repetition? 

What  is  the  metrical  structure  of  ottava  rima  as  illustrated  by  the 
last  eight  lines  of  the  poem? 

Note  the  instances  where  Milton  has  placed  the  adjective  after  the 
noun,  or  has  used  the  order  of  adjective,  noun,  adjective.  What  has  he 
gained  by  such  an  arrangement? 

What  do  you  understand  by  the  pastoral  manner  as  illustrated  by 
this  poem?  Why  is  the  pastoral  a  more  artificial  manner  for  English 
than  for  Greek  poetry? 

What  justification  is  there  for  Milton's  mingling  of  pagan  mythology 
with  Christian  belief  ? 


364  NOTES 

How  do  lines  70  ff.  illustrate  Milton's  own  spirit  in  entering  upon  the 
poetical  career? 

In  what  other  lines  does  the  personal  element  appear  in  the  elegy? 

On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont.  —  The  title  refers  to  the  Vaudois 
persecution  carried  on  by  the  Duke  of  Savoy  in  1655.  This  religious 
butchery  aroused  the  deepest  indignation  in  England.  As  Latin 
secretary  to  the  Commonwealth  Milton  had  drafted  Cromwell's  protest 
against  the  atrocities  which  the  Vaudois  were  enduring.  This  sonnet 
has  been  called  'a  collect  in  verse.'     Why? 

4.  lVhe7i  all  ojtr  fathers,  etc.  Before  the  Reformation,  when  Eng- 
land was  a  Catholic  country.  The  Vaudois,  or  Waldenses,  were  follow- 
ers of  Peter  Waldo  of  Lyons.  They  had  been  forced  to  leave  France, 
and  had  settled  in  the  canton  Vaud.  Many  believed  that  their  religion 
was  the  primitive  apostolic  Christianity.  Milton  refers  to  this  belief  in 
the  next  line. 

12.  triple  tyrant,  the  Pope,  whose  tiara  is  surrounded  by  the  triple 
crown. 

14.  Babylonian  ivoe,  the  doom  shortly  to  be  visited  upon  Babylon 
(Rev.  xviii),  Babylon  being  thought  by  Milton  to  symbolize  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Show  how  by  the  use  of  the  long  open  vowels  Milton  illustrates  in 
this  poem  the  subtle  effects  of  melody. 

Show  how  in  the  first  long,  rolling  sentence  the  rhymes  do  not  inter- 
rupt the  emphasis. 

With  what  passage  in  Lycidas  may  this  poem  be  compared  as  an 
example  of  Milton's  moral  earnestness? 

On  his  Blindness.  Milton's  sight,  injured  by  over-use  during  his  Latin 
secretaryship,  had  begun  to  fail  in  165  i.  By  1652  or  1653  the  disease 
had  progressed  so  far  as  wholly  to  destroy  his  sight.  His  blindness, 
however,  inspired  some  of  the  most  splendid  passages  in  his  poetry. 
Read  the  famous  apostrophe  to  light  in  the  beginning  of  the  third 
book  of  Paradise  Lost. 

2.  Ere  half  my  days.  Milton  became  blind  at  about  the  age  of  forty- 
four.  Possibly  he  was  thinking  here  of  his  working  years,  and  so  did  not 
take  into  account  the  years  of  his  immaturity. 

3.  that  one  talent.     See  Matt.  xxv.  14  ff. 
8.  foftdly.     Cf.  II  Penseroso,  1.  6. 

8.  prevent,  anticipate. 


NOTES  365 

10.   luho.     The  omission  of  the  antecedent  is  a  Latinism. 

12.  Compare  with  the  thought  of  this  and  the  following  lines  Milton's 
Hymn  on  the  Nativity,  11.  243-244. 

What  evidently  was  Milton's  attitude  toward  bodily  affliction?    , 

How  does  the  Miltonic  differ  from  the  Shakespearian  sonnet  as  regards 
the  arrangement  of  the  rhymes? 

Compare  with  line  14  the  last  stanza  of  Longfellow's  A  Psalm  of 
Lift:.     Which  is  the  nobler  expression  of  the  thought? 

Milton's  work  is  said  to  be  characterized  by  harmony  rather  than 
by  melody.  What  do  you  understand  by  the  statement?  Is  it 
wholly  true  ?    Read  Winchester's  Principles  of  Literary  Criticism,  p.  271 . 

Discuss  the  justice  of  the  charge  that  Milton  is  a  poet  of  books 
rather  than  of  nature. 

Point  out  passages  where  the  sound  and  the  movement  are  especially 
in  keeping  with  the  thought. 

Are  there  any  traces  in  Milton's  minor  poetry  of  the  prevalent  poeti- 
cal vices  of  his  age?  Is  there  any  over-classicism?  Are  there  any  con- 
ceits?    Is  he  ever  sensual?     Is  he  ever,  like  Donne,  over-subtle? 

With  all  Milton's  sensitiveness  to  beauty,  there  is  in  his  nature  a 
trend  toward  asceticism.     How  does  this  appear  in  his  poetry? 

Beauty  and  sublimity  are  the  dominant  characteristics  of  Milton's 
poetry.  In  which  of  the  poems  studied  is  each  of  these  characteristics 
most  apparent?     In  which  are  they  found  united? 

How  can  you  account  for  the  fact  that  Milton  is  second  only  to 
Spenser  in  his  influence  upon  the  lyric  poets  that  followed  him? 

JOHN    SUCKLING 

Why  so  Pale  and  'Wan? 
12.   take,  charm. 

Mr.  Gosse  says  Suckling's  lyrics  owe  their  special  charm  to  their 
gallantry  and  impudence,  their  manly  ardor,  and  their  frivolous  audac- 
ity.    Show  how  these  qualities  are  illustrated  here. 

How  are  Suckling's  poems  typical  of  the  age  in  which  they  were 
written? 

SAMUEL    BUTLER 

Hudibras,  the  burlesque  epic,  was  the  only  long  poem  of  any  consider- 
able literary  merit  which  the  Cavaliers  could  offset  against  the  Puritan 


366  NOTES 

epic,  Paradise  Lost.     The  first  part  appeared  in  1662.     It  was  tremen- 
dously popular.     Butler  says  of  Charles  II, 

He  never  ate,  nor  drank,  nor  slept 

But  Hudibras  still  near  him  kept. 

It  is  an  expression  of  the  reaction  against  the  Puritans  that  character- 
ized the  Restoration  period.  The  hero  is  a  Puritan  justice  of  the 
peace,  who,  with  Ralph,  his  squire,  goes  forth  to  stop  the  amusements 
of  the  people.  The  characters  and  their  experiences  are  similar  to 
those  of  Cervantes's  Don  Quixote.  The  interest  of  the  poem  to  modern 
readers  is  not  so  much  in  the  satire  as  in  the  continuous  flashes  of  wit. 
It  is  the  wittiest  poem  in  the  language. 

10.   bind  o''er,  bind  over  to  the  sessions,  as  justice  of  the  peace. 

24.  Montaigne,  in  his  essays,  supposes  his  cat  thought  him  a  fool  for 
wasting  his  time  in  playing  with  her. 

52.  analytic.  A  part  of  logic  that  teaches  to  decline  and  construe 
reason  as  grammar  does  words. 

79.  Babylonish  dialect,  a  confusion  of  languages.  Babylon  was  erro- 
neously supposed  to  have  been  named  from  the  Tower  of  Babel.  See 
Gen.  xi.  1-8. 

How  do  these  extracts  show  that  Butler's  estimate  of  human  nature 
was  low? 

Show  how  they  exemplify  his  facility  in  rhyming.  What  rhymes 
come  as  a  surprise? 

How  do  these  excerpts  illustrate  his  power  in  detecting  odd  or  un- 
expected analogies? 

What  does  he  satirize  in  the  different  extracts? 

Does  satiric  poetry  attempt  to  portray  characters  as  they  really  are? 

An  illuminating  article  upon  the  nature  and  history  of  satire  will  be 
found  in  the  Encyclopcedia  Britannica,  Vol.  IX. 

In  what  does  the  satire  consist  —  irony,  or  parody,  or  caricature? 

Why  are  satires  likely  to  become  hard  reading  for  people  of  an  age 
later  than  that  for  which  they  were  written? 

Select  some  of  the  most  quotable  couplets. 

RICHARD    LOVELACE 
To  Althea,  etc.      Lovelace  was  imprisoned  in  1642,  just  before  the 
Civil  War.     Althea  is  the  fanciful  name  which  he  applies  to  his  sweet- 
heart,   Lucy    Sacheverell.      Upon   a   false   report   of    his    death,  she 
promptly  married  another. 


NOTES  367 

5.    Cf.  LycidaSj  11.  67-69. 

7.   tvantoii.     Cf.  VAllegro,  I.  27. 

10.    allaying  Thames^  water  to  dilute  the  wine. 

17.   committed,  caged. 

28.  7  hat.     Meaning? 

Compare  this  poem  with  Suckling's  /  prithee  send  me  back  my 
Heart,  as  an  expression  of  chivalrous  devotion. 

The  different  stanzas  are  of  unequal  merit.     Select  the  best  two. 

To  Lucasta,  on  going  to  the  Wars.  Gray,  criticising  some  verses  that 
Mason  had  sent  him,  wrote  :  '  Extreme  conciseness  of  expression,  yet 
pure,  perspicuous,  and  musical,  is  one  of  the  great  beauties  of  lyric 
poetry.'     Show  how  this  poem  meets  these  requirements. 

HENRY   VAUGHAN 

The  Retreat.  This  is  the  first  instance  of  that  sense  of  the  holiness 
of  childhood,  with  its  mysterious  nearness  to  the  divine,  which  has 
appeared  so  often  in  English  poetry.  Shelley's  Lament,  the  last 
stanza  of  Hood's  /  retnember,  I  remember,  Lamb's  Sonnet  XI,  and 
Wordsworth's  Ode :  Intimations  of  Immortality  —  all  embody  more  or 
less  fully  the  same  idea.  It  is  a  modification  of  Plato's  doctrine  of 
metempsychosis.  Find  out  what  this  was  by  reference  to  any  ency- 
clopedia. 

What  is  meant  by  saying  that  Vaughan  is  a  devout  mystic  ? 

What  is  the  difference  between  the  spirit  of  Vaughan  and  that  of 
Herbert,  as  illustrated  by  this  poem  and   Virtue  f 

JOHN    DRYDEN 

Mac  Flecknoe.  Richard  Flecknoe,  an  inferior  poet  of  the  age,  had 
died  in  1678.  Thomas  Shadwell,  who  is  satirized  as  Mac  Flecknoe,  or 
the  son  of  Flecknoe,  was  a  much  better  poet  than  Dryden  here  rep- 
resents him.  At  the  accession  of  William  and  Mary,  Shadwell  super- 
seded Dryden  as  poet-laureate. 

25.  The  humor  here  is  heightened  by  the  fact  that,  in  striking. con- 
trast with  Shadwell,  Flecknoe  was  extremely  thin. 

29.  The  dramatists  Thomas  Heywood  and  James  Shirley  were  very 
voluminous  writers. 

30.  Explain  the  allusion. 


368  NOTES 

33.  Shadwell  was  from  Norfolk.  The  Drugget  seems  to  liave  been 
considered  characteristic  of  poor  poets. 

What  is  the  verse  form  employed?  Does  Dryden  use  it  with 
ease? 

Indicate  some  lines  made  more  effective  by  the  use  of  balance. 

What  phrases  in  the  poem  would  Dryden's  contemporaries  be  most 
likely  to  remember?     Why? 

Compare  Dryden's  satire  with  Butler's.  Which  is  the  more  force- 
ful? the  more  bitter?  the  more  humorous?  Which  contains  pro- 
portionally the  more  quotable  phrases? 

A  Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day.  The  song  was  written  for  the  cele- 
bration of  the  musical  festival  of  St.  Cecilia  in  1687.  It  was  customary 
to  secure  from  some  well-known  poet  a  poem  to  be  set  to  music  and  sung 
at  this  festival.  In  1697  the  anniversary  song  was  Dryden's  Alexan- 
der's Feast.     That  for  1708  was  furnished  by  Pope. 

1-2.  This  idea,  said  to  have  been  first  advanced  by  Pythagoras,  that 
order  in  the  universe  is  a  kind  of  orchestral  harmony,  that  the  stars  in 
their  courses  move  harmoniously  (the  music  of  the  spheres),  is  frequently 
found  in  poetry  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Cf.  Milton,  Hytnn  on  the 
Nativity,  1.  125. 

5.  heave  her  head.  Notice  the  use  of  Miltonic  phrases.  Qi.U Allegro, 
1.  145. 

8.    Cf  Paradise  Lost,  II,  898. 

15.    What  was  i\\&  diapason  ?  closing?    Cf.  Herbert's  Virtne,  1.  11. 

17.    Who  was  Jubal?     See  Gen.  iv.  21. 

41.    dame.     Meaning? 

47.  The  age  of  Dryden  was  not  a  particularly  reverent  one.  Cf  the 
last  lines  of  Alexander''s  Feast. 

50.  Sequacious.  Is  this  a  poetic  word  ;  if  not,  why  ?  It  was  character- 
istic of  Dryden  to  use  it. 

60.  pageant.     Meaning  ? 

61.  trumpet.     What  trumpet  is  meant?      See  I  Cor.  xv.  52. 

63.  untune,  dissolve  the  universal  order  by  destroying  the  harmonious 
relations  of  the  planetary  system. 

Who  was  St.  Cecilia? 

What  is  the  history  of  the  invention  of  the  organ? 

Point  out  instances  of  the  abruptness,  conciseness,  and  energy  of  the 
style  in  the  poem. 

Is  the  poem  melodious? 


NOTES  369 

Where  is  the  sound  of  the  lines  especially  well  adapted  to  the 
sense? 

How,  without  changing  the  meter,  is  the  effect  of  rapidity  of  move- 
ment produced  in  the  fifth  stanza  as  compared  with  the  fourth? 

Is  there  any  emotion  apparent  in  the  poem,  or  is  it  wholly  rhetorical? 

Is  it  sincere  ? 

Are  there  any  striking  'conceits'  in  this  poem? 

The  poem  was  composed  to  be  sung.  Point  out  what  parts  seem 
adapted  to  certain  kinds  of  voices,  and  indicate  to  the  accompaniment 
of  what  musical  instmments  these  parts  should  be  sung. 

MATTHEW    PRIOR 

An  Ode.  3-4.  Euphelia  and  Chloe  were  conventional  names  in 
pastoral  poetry. 

What  are  the  characteristics  of  good  society  verse?  See  Johnson's 
Forms  of  English  Poetry,  Chapter  VII.  Show  that  An  Ode  exemplifies 
these  characteristics. 

Select  a  title  for  the  poem. 

JOHN   GAY 

Go,  Rose,  my  Chloe's  Bosom  grace.  Waller  has  treated  the  same 
theme  in  his  Go,  lovely  Rose. 

It  is  characteristic  of  many  of  the  love  songs  of  this  age  that  the  lover 
is  ready  to  die  for  his  passion.  The  poem  is  also  typical  of  the  age  in 
the  name  given  the  beloved,  and  in  the  classical  nature  of  its  single 
allusion. 

0,  Ruddier  than  the  Cherry.  Why  is  the  rhyme  scheme  a  well- 
chosen  one? 

In  what  different  ways  is  sprightliness  secured  in  this  song  ? 

ALEXANDER   POPE 

An  Essay  on  Criticism.  This  poem  was  probably  begun  in  1707  and 
was  published  in  171 1,  when  Pope  was  twenty-three. 

16.  Pierian  spring.  Hippocrene  on  Mt.  Helicon,  the  home  of  the 
Muses,  is  meant. 

KNG.  I'UEMS 24 


370  NOTES 

47.     Possibly  the  Pantheon,  more  probably  St.  Peter's. 

67.  La  Mancha's  Knight^  Don  Quixote.  The  story  here  referred  to 
is  not  in  Cervanles's  Don  Quixote,  but  is  taken  from  La  Sage's  Nouvelles 
Aventurs  de  Don  Qidchotte. 

70.  Denfiis,  a  small  critic  and  dramatist  of  Pope's  time.  The  two 
were  bitter  enemies. 

80.   Stagyrite,  Aristotle,  who  was  born  in  Stagira,  in  Thrace. 

108.   content,  trust. 

128.  Fungoso  in  the  play,  a  poor  student  in  Jonson's  Every  Man 
out  of  his  Hu/nour,  who  endeavors  to  copy  the  dress  of  the  courtier,  Sir 
Briske.  — Reecfs  note. 

174-183.     Read  Dryden's  Alexafider's  Feast.  191.   approve,  test. 

Do  any  of  Pope's  precepts  seem  obvious  or  commonplace  ? 

Point  out  several  passages  where  Pope  illustrates  in  his  own  verse 
the  point  he  would  enforce. 

The  student  should  here  learn  something  of  classicism  and  romanti- 
cism, their  nature  and  their  struggle  in  this  century.  Beer's  History  of 
English  Romanticism  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Newcomer's  English 
Literature,  and  Moody  and  Lovett's  History  of  English  Literature  are 
to  be  recommended. 

An  Essay  on  Man.      42.     Scan  the  line. 

35-36.  Faidt  and  ought  were  probably  perfect  rhymes  in  Pope's  age. 
Do  you  note  any  other  rhymes  that  sound  imperfect  ? 

67.  science.     Meaning? 

68.  solar  walk,  the  earth's  elliptic.  milky  way.  The  ancient 
opinion  that  the  souls  of  the  just  went  thither. —  /"ic/^'i-  note. 

Does  the  Essay  show  a  logical  sequence  of  ideas .'' 

Which  of  the  two  extracts  contains  the  more  valuable  ideas?  Which 
shows  the  better  management  of  meter? 

Why  is  the  couplet  the  best  verse  form  for  such  a  writer  as  Pope? 

Read  aloud  a  number  of  lines.  Do  the  couplets  become  tiresome? 
Give  reasons  for  your  answer. 

Could  the  ideas  advanced  in  these  selections  have  been  expressed  in 
prose  ?  What  is  gained  by  the  use  of  the  heroic  couplet  rather  than 
prose  ? 

What  lines  best  illustrate  Pope's  love  of  antithesis  and  balance? 

Do  any  lines  or  phrases  seem  notably  artificial  ? 

Do  you  think  that  Pope  spent  much  time  in  polishing  his  work? 


NOTES  371 

What  passages  show  an  acute  observation  of  society? 

Do  you  imagine  Pope  a  lover  of  nature? 

What  else  do  you  learn  from  these  extracts  concerning  Pope's 
character  and  tastes? 

Next  to  Shakespeare,  Pope  is  probably  the  most  quoted  of  the  English 
poets.     Why?     Select  the  familiar  quotations. 

Why  have  some  critics  denied  that  Pope  was  a  poet? 

Summarize  the  different  qualities  that  made  Pope  the  model  of  English 
poets  for  over  a  century. 

JAMES   THOMSON 

From  Winter.  What  are  the  different  indications  in  the  poem  that 
Thomson  was  a  close  observer  of  nature? 

Which  should  you  select  as  the  most  picturesque  detail  in  the 
description  ? 

What  details  well  illustrate  Thomson's  power  of  presenting  the 
common  so  that  it  seems  uncommon? 

Do  any  of  the  words  used  impress  you  as  ponderous? 

Point  out  some  words  or  phrases  that  are  characteristic  of  the  age. 

Compare  Thomson  with  some  of  his  contemporaries  as  a  maker  of 
felicitous  phrases. 

Study  carefully  the  sentence  structure.  Do  you  note  any  mannerisms 
of  style  ? 

What  qualities  made  this  poem  for  many  years  one  of  the  most 
popular  in  the  language? 

Rule,  Britannia.  With  the  beginning  compare  that  of  Drake's  The 
Americatt  Flag.  The  latter  poem  may  be  read  in  Long's  A7)icrican 
Poems.,  p.  36. 

Point  out  some  words  that  are  characteristic  of  eighteenth-century 
diction. 

Why  has  this  been  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  British  national 
songs  ?  Is  the  song  distinctly  British  ?  Is  the  refrain  impressive  ? 
Is  the  poem  too  long  for  a  good  song?  In  singing,  what  stanzas  might 
best  be  omitted  ? 

Compare  it  as  a  national  song  with  Key's  The  Star-spangled  Banner. 


372  NOTES 

CHARLES   WESLEY 

Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul.  This  hymn  was  first  pubhshed  in  Hymns 
and  Sacred  Poems  (1740)  as  a  hymn  consisting  of  live  eight-hne  stanzas, 
with  the  title  '  In  Temptation.' 

1-4.  These  four  lines  have  been  altered  in  no  less  than  twenty 
different  ways.  Because  'Lover'  was  thought  undignified,  later  editors 
substituted  such  words  as  '  Refuge,'  '  Saviour,'  etc.  What  is  the 
effect  of  such  substitutions  upon  the  beauty  and  pathos  of  the  line? 

2.  This  line  has  been  changed  as  follows  :  — 

To  thy  sheltering  anns  we  fly. 
To  thy  sheltering  cross  we  fly, 
Let  me  to  thy  mercy  fly. 

Discuss  these  changes. 

3.  In   some   versions    the   line   is   altered    in   one  of  the  following 

ways : — 

While  the  billows  near  me  roll. 
While  the  raging  billows  roll. 
While  the  threatening  xvaters  roll. 

Discuss  the  effect  of  these  substitutions.  Is  it  possible  that  by  the 
original  phrase  '•  nearer  waters  '  Wesley  meant  to  suggest  the  local  and 
temporary  troubles  which  perplex  the  individual,  as  local  storms  some- 
times assail  ships  at  sea  ? 

What  accounts  for  the  fact  that  a  good  hymn  which  is  at  the  same 
time  good  poetry  is  extremely  rare  ? 

How  is  a  strict  regard  to  dogmatic  theology  likely  to  affect  the 
play  of  imagination  essential  to  poetry  ? 

Point  out  the  poetic  qualities  of  this  hymn,  showing  that  the  emotion 
it  expresses  is  a  universal  one,  that  it  is  independent  of  any  particular 
creed,  and  that  it  is  simple,  sincere,  and  deep. 

THOMAS  GRAY 

Elegy  written  in  a  Country  Churchyard.  Gray  probably  began  the 
Eki^y  in  1742,  Ixit  did  not  finish  it  till  1750.  He  is  thought  to  have 
had  in  mind  the  churchyarc^  at  Stoke-Pogis. 

2.    Tvtnd.     Why  better  than  winds,  as  it  is  sometimes  printed  ? 

II.  bower.  Exact  significance?  What  line  in  V Allegro  helps  to 
explam  its  meaning  ? 


NOTES  3^3 

13.  The  rich  were  buried  within  the  church;  the  poor  witliout  in  the 
churchyard. 

22  ff.  With  this  compare  Burns's  The  Cotter^s  Saturday  Night, 
11.  24-25  and  II.  43-44.     Which  phrasing  do  you  prefer,  and  why? 

41.  What  custom,  especially  prevalent  at  that  time,  is  here  referred 
to? 

43.  provoke.     Meaning  ? 

56.  Why  did  Gray  change  the  original  reading  of  Cato,  TiiHy,  anc 
Ccesar  to  Hampden,  Milton,  and  Cromwell? 

93-96.  What  reminders  of  Milton,  one  of  Gray's  masters,  are  in  this 
stanza  ? 

113.    What  sound  makes  the  line  move  slowly  and  heavily? 

116.    Here  was  originally  inserted  — 

There  scatter'' d  oft,  the  earliest  of  the  year, 
By  hands  unseen,  are  shoidrs  of  violets  found ; 

The  red-breast  loves  to  build  and  warble  there. 
And  little  footsteps  lightly  print  the  ground. 

Why  did  Gray  decide  to  omit  this  stanza  ? 
119.    Science.     Meaning  ? 

Why  has  the  Elegy  been,  possibly,  the  most  popular  of  English 
poems  ? 

Has  the  subject-matter  contributed  much  to  this  popularity  ? 

Are  originality  and  depth  of  thought  necessary  to  make  a  poem  live  ? 

Is  the  Elegy  more  effective  for  dealing  with  lowly  life  ? 

Show  how  the  time,  place,  and  surroundings  are  in  thorough  keeping 
with  the  thought  expressed. 

What  are  the  best-known  stanzas  ?     Why  ? 

Read  the  explanation  of  a  felicitous  phrase  in  Johnson's  Elements  of 
Literary  Criticism,  p.  196.     Select  the  felicitous  phrases  in  this  poem. 

What  lines  are  especially  musical  ? 

Note  the  use  of  abstract  nouns,  a  feature  characteristic  of  the  poetry 
of  Gray's  age.  What  would  be  gained,  and  what  lost,  by  employing 
more  concrete  terms  ? 

What  spirit  animates  the  last  stanza? 

The  Bard  was  begun  in  1754,  but  was  not  finished  till  1757.  This 
poem  is  possibly  the  best  illustration  in  English  of  the  Pindaric  ode. 
The  story  on  which  the  Ode  is  founded  is  not  historical. 

13.    Glo''ster.      'Gilbert  de  Clare,  Earl  of  Gloucester  and  Hereford, 


374  is[OTES 

had,  in  1283,  conducted  the  war  in  South  Wales  ;  and  after  over- 
throwing the  enemy  near  Llandulo  Tawr  had  reenforced  the  King  in 
the  Northwest.'  —  Hales. 

28.  Hoel,  etc.  Various  unsuccessful  attempts  have  been  made  to 
identify  these  bards.  Perhaps  it  is  sufficient  to  note  that  in  most 
instances  the  names  are  Welsh. 

55.  'Edward  the  Second,  cruelly  butchered  in  Berkley  Castle.'  — 
Gray.     This  castle  is  near  the  Severn. 

57.  She-wolf  of  France,  '  Isabel  of  France,  Edward  the  Second's 
adulterous  queen.' — Gray.       Cf.  Shakespeare's  ///  Henry   V/,l,\v. 

60.  Edward  the  Third,  who  successfully  invaded  France,  but  who 
afterwards  died  in  '  Sorrow  '  and  '  Solitude.' 

67.  '  Edward,  the  Black  Prince,  died  some  time  before  his  father.' 
—  Gray. 

71.    'Magnificence  of  Richard  the  Second's  reign.' —  Gray. 

79.    Richard  II  was  believed  to  have  been  starved  to  death. 

83.   The  wars  between  York  and  Lancaster. 

87.  '  Henry  the  Sixth,  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  Edward,  the  Fifth 
Richard,  Duke  of  York,  etc.,  believed  to  have  been  murdered  secretly 
in  the  Tower  of  London.  The  oldest  part  of  this  tower  is  vulgarly 
attributed  to  Julius  Caesar.'  —  Gray. 

89.  CoHsorfs  faith.  Margaret  of  Anjou  was  the  wife  of  the  Meek 
Usurper,  Henry  VI.  She  '  struggled  hard  to  save  her  husband  and 
his  crown.' 

93.  '■  The  silver  boar  was  the  badge  of  Richard  Third  ;  whence  he 
was  usually  known  in  his  own  time  by  the  name  of  the  Boar.''  —  Gray. 

99.  half  of  thy  heart.  Eleanor,  wife  of  Edward  I,  died  suddenly 
in  1270,  about  five  years  after  his  conquest  of  Wales. 

109-110.  'It  was  the  common  belief  of  the  Welsh  nation  that  King 
Arthur  was  still  alive  in  Fairyland,  and  would  return  again  to  rule  over 
Britain.' — Gray.  The  Welsh  regarded  the  prophecy  as  fulfilled  by 
the  accession  of  the  Tudors  to  the  throne  of  Britain. 

115.  form  divine,  Elizabeth. 

128.    <5«j'/('/«'d^  ;«^aj-w^j,  Shakespeare's.  131.    Milton. 

133.    '  The  succession  of  poets  after  Milton's  time.'  —  Gray. 

137.    What  line  from  Lycidas  is  here  recalled  ? 

Name  some  of  the  famous  odes  in  English. 

What  is  the  form  of  the  Pindaric  ode  ?  See  Johnson's  Forms  of 
English  Poetry,  Chapter  IV. 


NOTES  375 

What  are  the  advantages  and  what  the  disadvantages  of  the  highly 
artificial  stanza  form  of  the  ode? 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  varying  length  of  the  lines? 

What  lines  serve  as  a  refrain? 

Are  there  any  defective  rhymes? 

What  phrases  show  Gray  as  a  close  student  of  Milton? 

The  poem  met  with  a  cold  reception  on  account  of  its  alleged  ob- 
scurity.    Is  the  charge  just? 

WILLIAM    COLLINS 

A  Song  from  Shakespeare's  Cymbeline.  This  poem  is  based  on 
Cy/nbeline,  IV,  ii. 

Compare  this  with  Shakespeare's  Fear  no  more  the  Heat  o''  the  Sun. 
What  lines  from  the  two  poems  express  similar  thoughts?  Which 
poem  shows  the  deeper  feeling? 

What  phrases  from  V Allegro  are  here  recalled? 

Have  any  of  the  words  here  employed  now  gone  out  of  general  poetic 
use? 

Ode  to  Evening.     7.    brede.     Meaning? 
.    What  is  the  effect  of  the  peculiar  metrical  form  employed?     Would 
the  poem  have  gained  or  lost  had  it  been  written  in  rhyme? 

Are  the  details  well  chosen  to  reflect  the  spirit  of  evening?  Do  they 
blend  into  a  whole,  or  do  they  form  a  number  of  separate  pictures  ? 

Point  out  the  lines  where  the  sound  best  reflects  the  sense. 

What  echoes  of  Milton  and  of  Gray  do  you  note? 

Do  any  of  the  phrases  seem  artificial? 

Is  the  ending  especially  appropriate  ? 

OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

The  Deserted  Village,  i.  Auburn.  In  writing  this  poem  Goldsmith 
lias  undoubtedly  drawn  upon  the  experiences  of  his  youth  at  Lissoy, 
Ireland.  In  the  schoolmaster  he  has  probably  portrayed  his  old  teacher, 
one  Paddy  Byrne.  There  is  nothing,  however,  distinctly  Irish  about 
the  village. 

12.    decent.     Meaning  ? 

28.  snnitted,  by  being  induced  to  make  signs  on  his  face,  while  hold- 
ing a  saucer  ])lackened  on  the  under  surface.  This  is  an  old  English 
country  trick. 


n^  NOTES 

122.    vacant.     Meaning? 

141.  Where  else  has  Goldsmith  portrayed  the  character  of  the  village 
preacher?  To  what  extent  was  Goldsmith  indebted  to  Chaucer's 
picture  of  the  poor  parson?     See  The  Prologue,  11.  225  ff. 

181.  With  this  compare  the  description  of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  at 
the  close  of  the  service.     Which  description  is  the  kindlier  ? 

193  ff.  What  different  qualities  in  this  description  of  the  school- 
master make  it  one  of  the  best  parts  of  the  poem  ? 

209.   tides.     Meaning  ? 

232.  The  twelve  good  rules.  '  i .  Urge  no  healths  ;  2.  Profane  no 
divine  ordinances ;  3.  Touch  no  state  matters ;  4.  Reveal  no  secrets ; 
5.  Pick  no  quarrels;  6.  Make  no  comparisons;  7.  Maintain  no  ill 
opinions  ;  8.  Keep  no  bad  company ;  9.  Encourage  no  vice ;  10.  Make 
no  long  meals  ;    11.    Repeat  no  grievances  ;    12.  Lay  no  wagers.' 

265.  What  do  you  think  of  Goldsmith's  argument?  Are  such  con- 
ditions as  he  describes  the  necessary  outcome  of  manufacture  and  trade, 
with  the  consequent  increase  in  wealth  ? 

316.    artist.     Meaning? 

344.  Altama.  The  Altamaha  in  Georgia.  Can  you  see  any  reason 
for  Goldsmith's  choosing  this  stream  ? 

418.  Torno's  cliffs.  'There  is  a  river  Tornea  flowing  into  the  Gulf 
of  Bothnia,  and  forming  a  part  of  the  boundary  between  Sweden  and 
Russia.  There  is  also  a  Lake  Tornea  in  the  extreme  northern  part  of 
Sweden.     Painbainarca  is  said  to  be  a  mountain  near  Quito.'  —  Rolfe. 

427-430.  These  lines  were  added  by  Dr.  Johnson.  Do  they  make  a 
good  ending  ? 

What  qualities  combine  to  make  Goldsmith  easy  reading? 

What  are  some  of  the  most  quotable  couplets? 

What  passages  illustrate  his  ability  to  pass  rapidly  from  one  emotion 
to  another? 

What  lines  show  Goldsmith's  keen  observation  of  minute,  but  signifi- 
cant details? 

Discuss  the  statement  made  by  Macaulay  that  the  village  is  English  in 
its  prosperity  and  Irish  in  its  adversity. 

What  evidence  exists  in  the  poem  that  Goldsmith's  knowledge  of 
America  was  defective? 

Is  the  poem  classic  or  romantic  in  the  following  respects  :  the  meter; 
the  diction  ;  the  attitude  toward  nature;  the  attitude  toward  society? 

Compare  Goldsmith's  attitude  toward  the  poor  with  Gray's, 


NOTES  377 

Thackeray  calls  Goldsmith  the  best  beloved  of  English  writers.   Why  ? 

When  Lovely  Woman  stoops  to  Folly.  Note  the  effect  of  the  skill- 
ful combination  of  vowels  and  consonants,  and  of  the  alternation  of 
mascuUne  and  feminine  rhymes. 

What  lines  of  the  Deserted  Village  seem  like  an  elaboration  of  the 
idea  in  this  poem  ? 

WILLIAM   COWPER 

On  the  Receipt  of  my  Mother''s  Picture  out  of  Norfolk.  Cowper"'s 
mother  died  in  1737,  when  he  was  six  years  old.  Over  fifty  years,  many 
of  them  clouded  with  insanity,  had  passed  when  Cowper  wrote  these 
lines. 

I.  Life  has  passed,  etc.  This  passage  gains  much  from  what  it  sug- 
gests, but  leaves  unsaid.  Can  you  point  out  other  instances  of  repres- 
sion? 

88.    Point  out  some  other  passages  that  seem  trite  or  conventional. 

108.    Cowper  was  of  gentle  birth. 

Do  you  think  the  poem  was  carefully  planned? 

Are  any  of  the  lines  obscure  ?     Do  any  of  them  move  heavily? 

Note  the  naive  details  introduced.      Do  they  add  charm  and  beauty? 

Select  the  lines  voicing  the  deepest  emotion. 

How  does  the  poem,  in  its  verse  form,  in  diction,  and  in  thought 
reflect  the  si^irit  of  the  age  ? 

What  is  meant  by  saying  that  Cowper  is  preeminently  the  poet  of 
the  middle  classes? 

WILLIAM    BLAKE 

To  the  Evening  Star.  What  effective  use  of  contrast  is  here  introduced  ? 

What  consonant  sounds  recur  most  frequently,  and  what  is  the  effect? 

How  does  this  poem  differ  in  spirit  from  most  of  the  work  of  the  age? 

Mad  Song.     Express  the  thought  of  the  poem  in  a  single  sentence. 

Line  7  is  sometimes  printed. 

And  the  rustlini^  birds  of  morn 

Which  is  the  better  reading?  What  variations  has  Blake  employed 
in  the  metrical  structure  and  rhyme  scheme?  What  is  the  eftect  of 
these  variations?  Which  should  you  call  the  most  musical  quatrain  of 
the  poem,  and  why? 

Songs  of  Innocence.  Introduction.  By  what  different  means  is  the 
effect  of  simplicity  here  produced? 


378  NOTES 

This  poem  has  been  frequently  set  to  music.  Why  does  it  make  a 
good  song? 

Does  the  touch  of  symbolism  increase  or  lessen  the  beauty  of  the 
poem? 

What  characteristics  of  the  Elizabethan  songs  does  this  recall? 

ROBERT   BURNS 

To  a  Mouse.  4.  brattle,  hurry.  6.  /«///,?,  stick  for  cleaning  the  plow. 
15.  daimen-icker ,  an  occasional  ear  of  corn;  thrave  is  twenty-four 
sheaves.  17.  lave,  rest.  21.  big,  build.  24.  snell,  sharp.  34.  Bttt, 
without.     35.   tJiole,  bear.     36.   cranreuch,  hoarfrost. 

Is  the  poem  the  expression  of  genuine  emotion? 

What  lines  are  most  often  quoted  ? 

Is  the  poem  well  proportioned? 

How  does  the  poem  illustrate  the  breadth  of  Burns's  sympathy? 

How  does  the  personal  note  in  the  last  stanza  throw  light  upon  the 
whole  poem  ? 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  i.  friend,  Robert  Aiken.  He  was  an 
accomplished  reader,  who,  Burns  declared,  had  '  read '  the  poet  '  into 
fame.' 

10.    sitgh.     Why  did  Burns  use  this  word?    What  kind  of  word  is  it? 

26.    kiaiigh,  care.  27.    toil.     Pronunciation? 

28.    Belyve,  presently.  30.    ca"",  drive,     ientie  rin,  attentive  run. 

34.    b?'aw,  brave,  fine.  35.  penny-fee,  wages. 

38.    spiers,  inquires.  40.    7(ncos,  news.  48.    eydcnt,  diligent. 

49.  jauk,  trifle.  64.    ben,  within. 

67.    cracks.     Meaning?     Cf.  <  a  crack  player.'  69.    Mz/^,  bashful. 

72.    lave,  rest.  93.    sonpe,  milk!     haivkie,  cow. 

94.    hallan,  partition. 

96.    weel-hain\i kebbnck,  fell,  well-kept,  tasty  cheese. 

99.    A  year  old  since  flax  was  in  bloom. 

105.    lyart  haffets,  gray  hair  upon  the  temples. 

107.    wa:/^j,  chooses.  113.    beets.  it.^d&. 

What  portions  of  the  Bible  are  referred  to  in  Hnes  118  ff.? 

138.    From  Pope's  Windsor  Forest,  II,  111-112. 

143.    society.     Cf  Lycidas,  I,  179. 

158-159.     Cf.  Matt.  vi.  28-29,  ^nd  x.  29. 

165.    Cf.  The  Deserted  Village,  I,  53. 
•    i66.    What  is  the  source  of  the  quotatiori? 


NOTES  379 

Under  the  influence  of  what  poets  was  Burns  in  writing  this  poem? 

In  what  stanza  is  the  influence  of  Gray  most  evident? 

What  reminders  are  there  in  lines  82  fF.  of  Goldsmith's  When  Lovely 
Woman  stoops  to  Folly;  and  of  Tlie  Deserted  Village^  11.  325  ff.  ? 

What  statement  in  The  Dese7-ted  Village  does  that  in  line  75  reseml^le? 
Did  Burns  mean  quite  the  same  thing  as  Goldsmith  did? 

Is  the  Spenserian  stanza  here  employed  well  adapted  to  the  purpose 
for  which  Burns  uses  it? 

By  what  principle  was  Burns  guided  in  the  use  of  dialect? 

Which  are  the  better  parts  of  the  poem  —  those  in  the  English  or 
those  in  the  Scottish  dialect? 

What  qualities  besides  sincerity  and  truthfulness  make  this  a  great 
poem  ? 

To  a  Mountain  Daisy.     3.    stoure,  dust.  21.   biehl,  shelter. 

23.    liistie,  bare. 

Compare  the  first  and  last  stanzas  with  the  corresponding  stanzas  of 
To  a  Mouse.     Which  seem  the  simpler  and  more  genuine? 

What  change  takes  place  in  the  diction  used  in  the  last  five  stanzas? 

What  lines  sound  like  an  apology  for  the  poet's  own  life? 

Compare  with  this  poem  Herrick's  To  Daffodils.  Which  sounds  the 
more  spontaneous?     Which  expresses  a  deeper  feeling? 

0.  my  Luve's  like  a  Red,  Red  Rose.  Burns  has  here,  as  often,  simply 
given  a  new  treatment  to  an  old  Scotch  song.  In  his  clay  Scotland 
was  rich  in  many  beautiful  but  imperfect  songs,  to  which  Burns  has 
given  a  final  form. 

Does  this  poem  'sing  itself? 

What  diff"erent  qualities  does  Burns  mean  to  suggest  by  the  compari- 
sons in  the  first  stanza? 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  repetition  in  line  9? 

Compare  this  poem  with  Jonson's  To  Celia.  Which  is  the  better  love 
song?     Which  is  the  more  sincere,  musical,  passionate? 

What  is  meant  by  saying  of  Burns  that  England  has  had  greater 
poets,  but  never  a  more  perfect  singer? 

Auld  Lang  Syne.  Probably  Burns  received -some  aid  in  composing 
this  poem  from  the  old  song  usually  attributed  to  Francis  Sempill,  which 
was  published  in  171 1.     This  ballad  begins, 

Should  old  acquaintance  be  forgot 
And  never  'thought  upon? 


38o  NOTES 

It  also  has  the  refrain,  '  On  old  long  syne.'' 
Allan  Ramsay  has  a  poem  beginning, 

Should  old  acquaintance  be  forgot 
Though  they  return  with  scars  ? 

Burns  states  that  he  took  the  song  from  an  old  man's  singing.  It  is 
perhaps  the  greatest  song  of  friendship  ever  written. 

4.    mild  lang  syne,  old  long  ago. 

9.  ye''ll  be  your  pint-slowp,  pay  for  your  pint  mug. 

14.  gowatis,  daisies.  15.  Jit,  foot.  17.  btirn,  brook. 

18.   ^z;/^,  dinner  time.         19.    braid,  hrosid.         21.  yf^r^,  companion. 

23.   Willie  ivaught,  draught  of  good  will. 

What  lines  best  illustrate  the  'piercing  sweetness  '  of  the  poem? 

Are  there  in  this  song  any  qualities  distinctly  Scotch  ? 

Why  has  the  fourth  stanza  been  pronounced  the  finest  in  the  poem? 

John  Anderson,  my  Jo.     i.  /i?,  sweetheart.  4.    brent,  %moo'Ca.. 

II.    canty,  cheerful. 

Notice  how  Burns  is  the  poet  of  the  simple,  elementary  feelings. 

What  one  word,  should  you  say,  best  describes  the  spirit  of  the 
song? 

Does  the  song  gain  or  lose  by  its  brevity  ? 

What  makes  this  poem  almost  unique  among  love  songs? 

Willie  Brew'd  a  Peck  0'  Maut.     15.   ivyle,  allure.         18.   loun,  rascal. 

With  these  lines  compare  the  beginning  of  Tarn  O'Shanter. 

Which  is  the  best  stanza?     Give  reasons  for  your  choice. 

Discuss  Arnold's  criticism,  that '  Burns's  world  of  Scotch  drink,  Scotch 
religion,  and  Scotch  manners  is  often  a  harsh,  a  sordid,  a  repulsive 
world.'  Does  Burns's  genius  here  triumph  over  the  vulgarity?  If  so, 
how  ? 

Scots,  wha  hae.  '  This  battle  [at  Bannockburn]  was  the  decisive 
blow  which  put  Robert  the  First,  commonly  called  Robert  de  Bruce,  in 
quiet  possession  of  the  Scotch  throne.  It  was  fought  against  Edward  the 
Second,  son  of  that  Edward  who  shed  so  much  blood  in  Scotland  in 
consequence  of  the  dispute  between  Bruce  and  Baliol.'  —  Bnrns''s  note. 

Which  is  the  better  national  song,  this  or  Thomson's  Rule, 
Britannia.     Why? 

What  great  French  song  does  it  resemble  in  its  power? 

Does  it  contain  a  greater  or  a  less  proportion  of  distinctly  Scottish 
words  than  Burns's  other  songs? 


NOTES  381 

Arnold  says  Burns's  manner  has  sjDring,  bounding  swiftness.  How 
is  this  manner  illustrated  here  ? 

What  lines  in  Longfellow's  The  Day  is  Done  characterize  Burns? 

Should  you  say  that  his  poems  have  gained  or  lost  in  power  and 
attractiveness  through  the  use  of  dialect? 

Are  the  endings  of  his  poems  especially  happy? 

Which  is  the  stronger  element  in  his  verse,  the  intellectual  or  the 
emotional? 

Which  of  Burns's  songs  exhibits  most  of  what  Arnold  calls  '  his  fiery, 
reckless  energy '  ? 

Which  of  these  songs  seems  most  spontaneous  ? 

What  passages  are  marked  by  especial  tenderness? 

Point  out  passages  where  Burns  has  revealed  the  significance  and 
beauty  of  the  commonplace  in  nature. 

Compare  his  attitude  toward  nature  with  Gray's. 

What  resemblance  exists  between  his  work  and  Goldsmith's? 

In  what  different  ways  may  we  contrast  his  work  with  Pope's? 

What  qualities  have  made  him  the  national  poet  of  the  Scots? 

CAROLINA,    LADY   NAIRNE 

The  Land  0'  the  Leal,  land  of  the  faithful  —  namely,  heaven. 

23.  fain,  happy. 

How  is  a  remarkable  unity  of  tone  secured  ? 

Is  the  refrain  skillfully  introduced  ? 

If  we  did  not  know  the  author,  to  whom  should  we  probably  ascribe 
this  song?     Why? 

Compare  this  lyric  with  Burns's  John  Anderson,  my  Jo  in  spirit  and 
expression. 

WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH 

Lines,  etc.  Wordsworth  tells  us,  '  I  began  it  [the  poem]  upon  leaving 
Tintern,  after  cross-ing  the  Wye,  and  concluded  it  just  as  I  was  enter- 
ing Bristol  in  the  evening,  after  a  ramble  of  four  or  five  days  with  my 
sister.  Not  a  line  of  it  was  altered,  and  not  any  part  of  it  written 
down  till  I  reached  Bristol.' 

23-30.  Note  carefully  the  thought  here  expressed,  which  underlies 
much  of  Wordsworth's  poetry. 

42.   affections.     Possibly  means  the  intuitive  perceptions. 

45.    Wordsworth's  mysticism,  a  rapture  in  which  he  came  into  com- 


382  NOTES 

munion  with  the  Great  Life  permeating  nature,  is  one  of  the  marked 
characteristics  of  his  work. 

64-65.     Compare  with  lines  23  fif. 

106-107.  Our  world  is  made  up  both  of  our  perceptions  and  the 
interpretation  of  those  perceptions  through   our   previous    experience. 

116.  Wordsworth  here  refers  to  his  sister  Dorothy,  a  woman  of  fine 
perception  and  taste,  who  stimulated  and  aided  her  brother  in  his  work. 

Note  carefully  the  figures  of  speech  here  used.  From  what  sources 
are  they  drawn?    What  is  their  chief  purpose  ? 

Wordsworth  has  been  called  rich  in  '  poetic  moments,'  —  moments  of 
profound  insight.  Select  passages  illustrating  the  truth  of  this  state- 
ment. 

Study  carefliUy  the  instances  of  Wordsworth's  ability  to  express  dis- 
criminatingly certain  very  elusive  mental  states  and  perceptions. 

Discuss  the  attitude  toward  nature  here  shown.  Mark  the  insistence 
on  the  relation  between  nature  and  man's  spiritual  life.  Point  out 
instances  of  close  observation  of  small  but  significant  details.  Which 
of  Wordsworth's  five  senses  was  the  strongest?  Note  his  love  for  the 
elemental  things  in  nature.  How  does  his  attitude  toward  nature  differ 
from  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors  ? 

She  Dwelt  among  the  Untrodden  Ways.  Show  how  the  treatment  is 
admirably  in  keeping  with  the  subject. 

Are  the  comparisons  of  the  second  stanza  well  chosen?     Why? 

What  line  of  the  poem  is  deepest  fraught  with  emotion? 

The  Daffodils,  etc.  Lines  22-23,  which  Wordsworth  considered 
the  best  of  the  poem,  were  written  by  his  wife,  Mary. 

In  reading  the  first  line  of  the  poem,  should  we  pause  before  or  after 
'  lonely  '? 

What  lines  in  the  poem  have  the  best  movement? 

Which  is  the  poorest  line  of  stanza  iii? 

Note  how  the  last  stanza  expresses  Wordsworth's  theory  that  the 
basis  of  poetry  is  emotion  recollected  in  tranquillity. 

With  this  poem  compare  Herrick's  To  Daffodils^  marking  the  differ- 
ence in  treatment. 

Ode  to  Duty.  This  ode  was  written  in  1805.  The  text  here  given  is 
that  of  the  edition  of  1827. 

7.  temptatiotis,  struggles.  Fiom  these  Duty  frees  us  by  supplying  a 
fixed  principle  of  action. 


NOTES  -  383 

12.  the  genial  sense  of  youth^  good  impulses,  as  opposed  to  good 
principles. 

37.  unchartered,  unlimited. 
Summarize  the  chief  thoughts  of  the  poem. 
What  great  phrases  has  Wordsworth  here  coined  ? 

Compare  the  mood  of  which  this  lyric  is  the  expression  with  that  of 
Milton's  sonnet  On  His  having  arrived  at  the  Age  of  Twenty -three. 

Compare  the  thought  of  the  sixth  stanza,  where  nature's  obedience  to 
physical  law  is  compared  to  man's  obedience  to  the  moral  law,  with 
Psalm  xix. 

What  did  Lowell  mean  by  saying  that  in  this  ode  Wordsworth 
*  speaks  to  us  out  of  an  ampler  ether  than  in  any  other  of  his  poems  '.-^ 

Ode :  Intimations  of  Immortality  from  Recollections  of  Early  Child- 
hood. What  is  the  exact  meaning  of  'Intimations'.''  By  'Immor- 
tality '  does  Wordsworth  mean  eternal  duration  ? 

19-50.    These  lines  anticipate  the  conclusion  of  the  poem. 

21.  tabor''s  sound,  sound  of  the  drum. 

23.    A  timely  utterance,  the  poem  itself. 

28.   the  fields  of  sleep.    What  does  the  poet  mean  to  suggest? 

38.  jubilee.     Exact  meaning? 

51-57.  These  lines  conclude  the  introduction  of  the  poem,  and 
return  to  the  thought  of  lines  1-18. 

58.  An  interval  of  two  years  elapsed  between  the  writing  of  stanzas 
IV  and  V. 

72.   Nature'' s priest.     In  what  sense  is  he  a  priest? 

85.  Stanza  vii  illustrates  the  preceding  one. 

86.  pigmy.  Exact  meaning?  In  the  edition  of  1807  we  read  'A 
four  years'  darling.'     Why  this  change? 

102-105.  What  reminders  are  there  here  of  Shakespeare's  As  You 
Like  //,  II,  vii,  139  If.  ? 

108-128.  The  key  to  the  understanding  of  this  stanza  is  the  question 
in  lines  123-124. 

no.    In  what  sense  is  the  child  a  philosopherf 

114.    Prophet,  spokesman. 

127.   custom.     Meaning  ? 

129-167.  This  stanza  sets  forth  the  central  thought  of  the  poem. 
The  soul's  memory  of  a  previous  state  of  existence,  and  its  imperfect 
adjustment  to  things  temporal,  are  witnesses  to  its  being  part  of  an 
eternal  order. 


384  NOTES 

143.  Fallings  from  us,  vanishing,  momentary  doubts  as  to  the  reality 
of  external  objects.  Wordsworth  tells  us,  '  Many  times  while  going 
to  school  have  I  grasped  at  a  wall  or  tree  to  recall  myself  from  this 
abyss  of  idealism  to  the  reality,'  so  unsubstantial  did  the  external 
world  sometimes  seem  to  him. 

181-186.  These  lines  give  the  reason  for  the  triumphant  tone  of  the 
stanza. 

202-203.  These  lines  state  the  result  of  the  meditation  of  which  the 
poem  is  the  embodiment.  Compare  the  thought  with  that  of  Tenny- 
son's Flower  in  the  crannied  wall. 

Do  children  commonly  feel  this  nearness  to  nature? 

Into  what  groups  of  stanzas  may  the  poem  be  divided? 

An  ode  has  been  defined  as  '  any  strain  of  enthusiastic  and  exalted 
lyrical  verse,  directed  to  a  fixed  purpose,  and  dealing  progressively  with 
one  dignified  theme.'  Show  that  this  ode  corresponds  with  the 
definition. 

What  is  the  prevailing  meter,  and  what  variations  do  you  observe? 

What  is  the  rhyme  scheme? 

What  should  you  say  of  the  rhyme  in  lines  42  and  45  ? 

What  of  the  phrasing  in  lines  133-134?  Point  out  other  examples 
of  good  phrasing. 

Which  do  you  regard  as  the  finest  stanza? 

Which  stanza  shows  the  keenest  joy  in  nature? 

To  the  work  of  what  earlier  poet  may  this  ode  be  compared  in  the 
dignity  of  its  thought  and  in  the  sonorousness  of  its  expression? 

Matthew  Arnold,  commenting  upon  this  poem,  says,  '  The  idea  of  the 
high  instincts  and  affections  coming  out  in  childhood,  testifying  of  a 
divine  home,  recently  left,  and  fading  away  as  our  life  proceeds,  —  this 
idea,  of  undeniable  beauty  as  a  play  of  fancy,  has  itself  not  the  character 
of  poetic  truth  of  the  best  kind  ;  it  has  no  real  solidity.'  Is  this  criti- 
cism just? 

What  justification  is  there  for  Emerson's  statement  that  this  poem 
is  'the  high  water  mark  of  English  thought  in  the  nineteenth 
century'? 

London.  3.  altar,  sword,  and  pen.  For  what  do  these  words 
stand? 

6.  inward  happijiess,  due  to  the  adjustment  he  prays  for  in  the  Ode 
to  Duty,  and  to  the  sense  of  kinship  with  nature  which  he  laments  the 


NOTES  385 

lack  of  in  the  other  sonnet  beginning  'The  world  is  too  much  with 
us.' 

II.    What  do  'pure'  and  'majestic'  modify? 

In  what  sense  could  Milton's  soul  be  said  to  be  like  a  star?  Cf. 
Shelley's  Sonnet  to  Wordsworth,  1.  9, 

TJiotc  wert  as  a  lone  star  zuhose  light  did  ski  tie. 

Justify  the  characterization  of  Milton's  style  in  line  10. 
Was  there  any  foundation  in  the  age  of  Wordsworth  for  the  severe 
criticism  expressed  in  this  sonnet? 

The  World  is  too  much  with  Us.  Wordsworth  is  the  first  really 
great  sonnet  writer  after  Milton.  Discontented  with  the  sordid  mate- 
rialism of  modern  life,  which  tends  to  destroy  the  sense  of  the  mystic 
relation  between  the  world  without  us  and  the  world  within,  Words- 
worth here  turns  with  longing  to  the  Greek  lover  of  nature  —  a  love 
that  led  the  Greeks  to  personify  its  forces. 

13.  Proteus.     What  is  the  meaning  and  derivation  of ' /V^j/^a;;  '  .^ 

14.  Triton.     See  Lycidas,  11.  89-90  and  note. 

'  Nine  tenths  of  my  verses,'  said  Wordsworth,  '  have  been  mur- 
mured out  in  the  open  air.'  Does  this  sonnet  sound  as  if  composed 
out  of  doors  ? 

Compare  this  poem  with  Shakespeare's  Sonnet  XXIX.  Which  is 
the  expression  of  more  thoughtful  feeling?  Is  the  emotion  of  Words- 
worth's sonnet  '  intellectualized  emotion '  as  distinguished  from  pure 
feeling? 

What  gives  the  poem  dignity  and  permanence,  even  though  it  be  but 
the  expression  of  a  transient  mood? 

SIR   WALTER    SCOTT 

The  Battle  of  Bannockburn.  The  student  may  be  interested  in  see- 
ing to  what  extent  the  account  of  the  battle  is  historical.  See  Scott's 
Tales  of  a  Grand/atker,  First  Series,  Vol.  I,  Chap.  Vlll. 

9.    battles.     Meaning?  64.    selle,  saddle. 

66.    Who  were  the  Plantagenets ? 

200-217.  What  suggestions  may  Scott  have  taken  from  Burns's  Scots, 
ivha  hae  ? 

Are  the  Scottish  troops  represented  as  coming  from  one  particular 
part  of  their  kingdom  ? 

KNi;.  i't)KMs  —  25 


386  NOTES 

How  are  we  prepared  for  the  outcome  of  the  battle? 

What  details  are  the  most  vivid  and  characteristic  in  the  description 
of  the  Scottish  army  ? 

How  does  the  poet  show  that  his  sympathies  are  with  the  Scotch  ? 
Is  he  unfair  in  his  treatment  of  the  English  ? 

What  customs  of  chivalry  are  introduced?  How  do  they  affect  our 
appreciation  of  the  poem? 

From  what  sources  does  Scott  draw  his  comparisons  ?  Does  he  use 
comparatively  few,  or  many  figures  ? 

Compare  Scott\s  description  of  a  battle  with  Drayton's;  with  Camp- 
bell's; with  Macaulays.  Which  is  the  most  detailed?  Which  has  the 
most  action?     Which  has  the  most  of  the  poet's  own  thought? 

Scott  himself  said  of  his  poetry,  '  I  am  sensible  that  if  there  is  any- 
thing good  about  my  poetry  .  .  .  it  is  a  hurried  frankness  of  composi- 
tion which  pleases  soldiers,  sailors,  and  young  people  of  bold  and  active 
disposition.'  What  does  Scott  mean  by  this  frankness,  and  how  is  it 
illustrated  in  this  selection? 

What  is  meant  by  saying  that  Scott  is  the  most  Homeric  of  British 
poets? 

Jock  of  Hazeldean.  The  first  stanza  of  this  poem  is  taken  from  an 
old  Scotch  ballad  called  'Jock  of  Hazel  Green.'  What  other  poet  has 
borrowed  freely  from  Scotch  folk-songs? 

'  The  definition  of  Scott's  poetry,'  says  Hazlitt,  '  is  a  pleasing  super- 
ficiality.'    Is  this  an  adequate  definition  of  it? 

Should  you  call  it  poetry  of  action  or  poetry  of  thought? 

Why  have  so  many  such  songs  come  from  the  border  country? 

What  characteristics  of  the  old  ballad  has  Scott  succeeded  in  repro- 
ducing in  this  poem  ? 

Why  has  it  so  often  been  set  to  music? 

Lochinvar.  This  poem,  Scott  tells  us,  is  founded  'in  a  very  slight 
degree '  on  one  called  '  Katherine  Janfarie,'  which  may  be  found  in 
the  Border  Minstrelsy . 

20.  Solway.  An  interesting  account  of  the  spring  tides  in  Solway 
Frith  may  be  found  in  Scott's  novel,  Redgauntlet  (Chapter  IV). 

32.  galliard,  a  gay  dance.  41.    scaur,  steep  river  bank. 

Describe  the  meter  and  point  out  its  appropriateness  for  this  story, 
particularly  in  11.  37-45. 

In  what  different  ways  is  the  impression  of  vigor  attained? 


NOTES  387 

Border  Song.     11.    Jiirsels,  flocks. 

Of  what  mood  is  this  lyric  the  expression? 

To  what  feelings  does  Scott  appeal  ?  Are  these  feelings  simple  and 
elemental? 

Point  out  how  the  song  illustrates  the  peculiar  skill  with  which  Scott 
employs  proper  names  —  'a  rarely  misleading  sign,'  says  one  critic, 
'•  of  true  poetical  genius.' 

Compare  the  lyric  with  Burns's  Scots,  wha  hae.  Which  appeals  to 
nobler  emotions?     Which  is  the  more  stirring? 

Note  the  justness  of  a  contemporary  criticism  upon  Scott's  verse  that 
it  '  is  not  to  be  sung  or  danced  —  it  is  to  be  jumped.' 


SAMUEL   TAYLOR    COLERIDGE 

France  :  An  Ode.  3-4.  With  this  compare  Byron's  apostrophe  to  the 
ocean  in  CJiilde  Harold,  IV,  clxxix  ff.  Which  poet  shows  a  greater 
love  for  the  sea? 

27.  slavish  band,  the  English  conservatives,  whom  Coleridge  regarded 
as  bondmen  to  established  institutions. 

43.  Coleridge  at  this  time  felt  that  the  excesses  of  the  Revolution, 
with  the  accompanying  atheism,  were  but  the  natural  reaction  after  the 
oppression  of  state  and  church. 

66  ff.  These  lines  refer  to  the  subjugation  of  the  Swiss  republic  by 
the  sister  republic  of  France.  This  act,  possibly  more  than  any  other, 
helped  to  change  Coleridge's  attitude  toward  the  Revolution. 

95.    Priestcrafts  harpy  niinions.     Explain. 

Why,  in  the  first  stanza,  does  Coleridge  appeal  to  the  clouds,  the 
waves,  and  the  woods  ? 

Is  such  a  theme,  one  of  contemporary  interest,  likely  to  prolong  or  to 
limit  the  life  of  the  poem? 

Study  carefully  the  splendid  movement  and  climax  of  stanza  i. 

Point  out  in  the  succeeding  stanzas  instances  of  good  management 
of  the  pauses. 

Are  there  any  changes  in  the  rapidity  of  movement  through  the  ode? 

Do  you  note  any  lines  that  seem  rhetorical? 

Which  do  you  consider  the  finest  stanza  of  the  poem,  and  why? 

Hymn  before  Sunrise,  in  the  Vale  of  Chamouni.  <  Beside  the  rivers 
Arve  and  Arveiron,  which  Iwve  their  source  at  the  foot  of  Mont  Blanc, 


388  NOTES 

five  conspicuous  torrents  rush  down  its  sides ;  and  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  glaciers  the  Gentiana  Major  grows  in  immense  numbers,  with  "  its 
flowers  of  loveliest  blue."  ■" —  Coleridge's  Jiote. 

83.  HierarJi.  Meaning?  Is  the  word  well  chosen?  By  what  other 
designations  does  Coleridge  refer  to  the  mountain? 

What  idea  is  emphasized  at  the  close  of  each  of  the  last  three  stanzas  ? 

Are  the  different  portions  of  the  poem  skillfully  connected  ? 
How  does  Coleridge  secure  in  this  poem  a  vigor  of  description? 

With  this  poem  compare  Byron's  Mont  Blanc.  How  does  Coleridge's 
delight  in  the  mountain  differ  from  Byron's?  Which  poet  is  the  more 
mystical?     Which  poem  shows  the  finer  phrasing? 

Compare  the  movement  with  that  in  France.  Which  movement 
seems  the  finer  and  why?  Which  is  the  more  suited  to  the  subject- 
matter?     Which  do  you  consider  the  greater  poem  and  why? 

Kubla  Khan.  When  the  poem  was  first  published,  in  1816.  the  title 
read  Kiibla  Khan,  or  a  Vision  in  a  Dream. 

Before  falling  into  the  sleep  during  which  the  poem  took  shape,  Cole- 
ridge had  been  reading  the  following  lines  from  Piirchas,  His  Pilgrimage: 
'  In  Xamdu  did  Cublai  Can  build  a  stately  Palace,  encompassing  six- 
teene  miles  of  plaine  ground  with  a  wall,  wherin  are  fertile  Meddowes, 
pleasant  Springs,  delightful  Streames,  and  all  sorts  of  beasts  of  chase 
and  game,  and  in  the  middest  thereof  a  sumptuous  house  for  pleasure.' 
—  CampbeWs  note. 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  change  of  meter  in  the  first  section? 

How  has  Coleridge  succeeded  in  accelerating  and  lightening  the 
effect  of  the  iambic  lines? 

Study  the  combination  of  vowels  and  consonants,  noting  the  fine  use 
of  alliteration  and  assonance.     Are  any  lines  made  intentionally  harsh  ? 

Note  carefully  how  well  the  comparisons  selected  {e.g.  15-16)  serve 
to  give  a  certain  tone  to  the  poem. 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  recurrence  of  several  phrases  repeated,  either 
exactly  or  with  slight  variation? 

CHARLES    LAMB 

Sonnet  XL  This  sonnet  gives  graceful  expression  to  the  regret  with 
which  thoughtful  men  look  back  upon  their  lost  vouth.  It  affords  an 
interesting  comparison  with  Vaughan's  Retreat,  with  Wordsworth's  Ode  : 
Intimations  of  I??unortality,  and  with  Hood's  /  remember,  I  remember. 


NOTES  389 

WALTER    SAVAGE    LANDOR 

Rose  Aylmer.  With  which  of  Wordsworth's  poems  may  this  be  com- 
pared in  its  restraint?     In  which  is  the  grief  expressed  the  greater? 

THOMAS    CAMPBELL 

Hohenlinden.  During  a  visit  to  the  Continent,  Campbell  witnessed,  on 
Dec.  3,  1800,  from  a  Bavarian  monastery,  the  battle  between  the  French 
and  Austrians.  This  poem  has  been  said  to  be  '  the  only  representa- 
tion of  a  modern  battle  that  possesses  either  interest  or  sublimity.'' 

I.    L/nden,  Hohenlinden. 

4.  /st'r.  The  battle  was  fought  on  a  plateau  between  the  Iser  and 
the  Inn.  27.    Munich.     Why  mentioned? 

29-32.     The  Austrians  lost  8000  men  ;  the  French,  5000. 

Was  Sir  Walter  Scott  justified  in  calling  this  'a  glorious  little  lyric'  ? 

Point  out  the  sudden  changes  of  mood  in  the  poem.  Contrast  it  in 
this  respect  with  Drayton's  To  the  Cambro- Britons  and  their  Harp,  his 
Ballad  of  Agincourt. 

In  what  way  by  the  last  line  of  each  stanza  is  the  whole  poem  bound 
together? 

THOMAS    MOORE 

Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night.  What  is  the  reason  for  the  popularity  of  this 
poem  ?  Is  it  deservedly  greater  or  less  than  that  of  ^Tis  the  last  Rose  of 
Sununer  by  the  same  author  ? 

What  musical  instrument  does  the  melody  of  this  poem  suggest? 

Does  any  comparison  in  the  lyric  seem  affected  or  insincere  ? 

Which  of  the  two  stanzas  is  the  better  ? 

Contrast  the  spirit  of  these  graceful,  sentimental  lines  with  that  of 
Lamb's  The  Old  Familiar  Faces.     Which  shows  the  deeper  feeling? 

LEIGH    HUNT 

Abou  Ben  Adhem.  14.  Write  me,  etc.  This  line  appropriately  serves 
as  Hunt's  epitaph  on  the  monument  erected  by  popular  subscription  in 
Kensal  Green  Cemetery. 

Why  did  Hunt  choose  an  Oriental  name  for  the  hero  of  this  parable  ? 

Why  is  the  word  'angel'  (1.  5)  changed  (11.  7  and  8)  ? 

Compare  the  teaching  of  this  parable  with  that  of  the  parable  recorded 
in  Luke,  xvi.  19  25. 


390  NOTES 

GEORGE   NOEL   GORDON,    LORD   BYRON 

Vision  of  Belshazzar.  Point  out  how  Byron  has  compressed  the 
narrative  contained  in  the  fifth  chapter  of  Daniel. 

What  details  has  he  seized  upon  and  what  has  he  omitted  ? 

What  qualities  other  than  conciseness  are  found  in  this  poem  ? 

What  should  you  say  of  the  diction  ?  Are  there  many  monosyllables  ? 
Why  ? 

The  Destruction  of  Sennacherib.  This  poem,  among  others,  was 
written  at  the  request  of  Byron's  friend,  Douglas  Kinnaird,  for  a 
Selection  of  Hebrew  Melodies -pvLhW^ihed  \\\  1815.  The  biblical  account 
of  the  incident  treated  in  the  poem  will  be  found  in  Isaiah  xxxvii.  36  ff. 

2.    cohorts.     What  is  the  effect  of  using  this  word  ? 

21.  As/uir,  Assyria. 

22.  Baal,  the  Phoenician  sun-god,  worshiped  by  the  Assyrians  under 
the  name  Bel  or  Belus. 

Mark  the  energy  and  the  compression  of  the  style. 

What  is  the  meter  of  the  poem? 

Note  its  appropriateness  to  the  bounding  movement  suggested  by 
the  first  four  lines. 

Point  out  the  beauty  and  fitness  of  the  two  similes  in  lines  5-8. 

May  Byron  have  owed  the  suggestion  for  the  second  to  Milton, 
Paradise  Lost,  I,  302-303  ? 

In  line  18  Byron  first  wrote 

IVitk  the  crow  on  his  breast,  and  the  rust  on  his  mail. 

Why  did  he  change  it? 

Notice  the  words  with  which  the  different  lines  begin.  Are  they 
strong  words  ? 

Compare  this  poem  with  the  preceding  one  in  respect  to  beauty  and 
strength  of  movement.  What  qualities  have  made  this  one  of  the  best 
known  of  Byron's  poems? 

The  Isles  of  Greece.  Byron  wrote  this  poem  tliree  years  before  his 
death,  and  two  years  before  he  sailed  to  aid  the  Greeks  in  their  struggle 
for  independence. 

2.    Who  was  Sappho  ? 

4.   Delos  rose.     See  Spenser,  Faerie  Queen,  II.  xii,  13. 

7.    Scian  and  the  Teian  tniise.     Homer  and  Anacreon. 

12.  Islatids  of  the  Blest,  legendary  islands  in  the  far  Atlantic,  whither 
the  souls  of  the  blest  went  after  death.  19.    A  king,  Xerxes. 


NOTES  391 

54.   Bacchanal.    Meaning  ?  55.    Pyrrhic  dance,  a  martial  dance. 

59.    Cadmus.     Said  to  have  introduced  the  alphabet  from  Egypt. 

78.    Heracleidan,  Greek.        80.    a  king,  etc.,  Louis  XVIII  of  France. 

What  emotion  is  expressed  in  this  lyric  ?  Does  it  sound  sincere  ? 
Explain  the  historical  allusions.  Why  are  Marathon,  Salamis,  and 
Thermopylae  mentioned  ? 

What  are  the  elements  in  this  lyric  that  contribute  to  the  effect  of 
splendid  energy?     Are  the  rhymes  masculine  or  feminine? 

What  aspects  of  nature  do  you  imagine  appealed  to  Byron  ? 

The  Prisoner  of  Chillon.  This  poem  was  composed  in  two  days.  It 
was  inspired  by  a  visit  that  Byron,  in  company  with  Shelley,  paid  to  the 
castle  of  Chillon  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Geneva  in  Switzerland.  Here 
one  Francois  Bonivard  was  kept  as  a  political  prisoner  for  six  years. 
The  hero  of  the  poem,  however,  is  wholly  a  creation  of  Byron's  own 
imagination  and  not  an  historical  figure. 

2-3.  What  is  the  effect  of  the  variations  from  the  regular  rhythm  in 
these  lines  and  in  227-228,  and  343? 

57.  pure  elements  of  the  earth.     What  is  meant? 

211.  Notice  the  tragic  pathos  of  this  line.  It  is  the  emotional  climax 
of  the  poem. 

Contrast  the  movement  of  this  poem  with  that  of  Coleridge's  France. 
Which  is  the  more  melodious?     Which  is  the  more  vigorous? 

Why  is  there  so  little  imagery?  Are  the  figures  expanded  or  con- 
densed?    What  purpose  do  they  serve? 

Do  any  lines  impress  you  as  prosaic? 

Characterize  the  imagination  here  shown.     Compare  it  with  Shelley's. 

The  poem  aims  to  portray  an  emotional  development.  Trace  the  prog- 
ress of  Bonivard's  emotional  experience.  Why  are  the  two  brothers 
introduced?  How  is  Bonivard  recalled  from  his  despair  to  an  interest 
in  life?  Compare  with  Coleridge's  Ancient  Mariner,  11.  272  fif.  and 
359.     Does  the  psychology  of  the  poem  seem  true? 

Can  you  name  any  other  of  Byron's  poems  that  exemplify  his  dominant 
characteristics,  —  his  love  for  liberty,  and  his  '  feeling  for  human  suffer- 
ing'?    Do  any  passages  seem  declamatory? 

In  what  different  ways  does  his  work  produce  the  impression  i  t 
strength?  Sir  Walter  Scott  thought  this  poem  'more  powerful  than 
pleasing.'     What  did  he  mean,  and  is  the'  criticism  a  just  one? 

As  compared  with  Scott,  has  Byron  more  or  less  passion,  sjjlendor, 
imaiiination  ? 


392  NOTES 

PERCY   BYSSHE   SHELLEY 

Ode  to  the  West  Wind.  'This  poem  was  conceived  and  chiefly 
written  in  a  wood  that  skirts  the  Arno,  near  Florence,  and  on  a  day 
when  the  tempestuous  wind,  whose  temperature  is  at  once  mild  and 
animating,  was  collecting  the  vapors  that  pour  down  the  autumnal  rains. 
They  began,  as  I  foresaw,  at  sunset  with  a  violent  tempest  of  hail  and 
rain  attended  with  that  magnificent  thunder  and  lightning  peculiar  to 
the  Cisalpine  regions.'  —  Shelley'' s  note. 

2.    Would  anything  be  lost  by  changing  the  order  of  the  last  two  words  ? 

II.  What  is  the  effect  of  the  parenthesis  on  the  movement  of  the 
verse  ? 

What  line  in  stanza  iii  moves  most  smoothly?     Why? 

43-45-  How  do  these  lines  summarize  the  three  preceding  stanzas? 
What  new  element  is  here  introduced? 

56.    Do  you  imagine  this  characterization  of  the  poet's  self  a  good  one? 

70.    With  what  inflection  of  the  voice  should  this  line  be  read? 

Study  Shelley's  wonderful  variety  in  the  use  of  the  pause  throughout 
the  poem. 

With  what  poems  previously  studied  may  we  compare  the  Ode  in 
emotional  fervor? 

To  a  Skylark.  15.  itnbodied.  Some  editions  read  ^Wi^crtfecf.  Which 
is  the  better  reading,  and  why? 

21.  Note  all  the  diff'erent  qualities  of  the  bird's  song  expressed  either 
directly,  e.g.  '  keen ',  or  indirectly  by  suggestion. 

22.  Does  Shelley  here  mean  the  sun  or  the  moon? 

36  ff.  Study  carefully  the  four  comparisons.  Which  is  the  most 
beautiful  poetically  ?    Why  has  the  poet  arranged  them  in  just  this  order? 

39-40.    The  regeneration  of  mankind  was  a  favorite  idea  with  Shelley. 

86.    What  word  should  be  accented  in  reading  this  line  ? 

90.  Poe  says,  'Let  me  remind  you  that  (how  we  know  not)  this 
certain  taint  of  sadness  is  inseparably  connected  with  all  the  highest 
manifestations  of  beauty.'     Are  Poe  and  Shelley  right  in  their  belief  ? 

What  does  the  skylark  symbolize  to  Shelley  ? 

What  resemblance  between  the  close  of  this  poem  and  that  of  the 
Ode  to  the  West  Wind? 

With  this  poem  compare  Wordsworth's  strikingly  different  treatment 
of  the  same  subject. 

Adonais.     Shelley  here  laments  the  death  of  Keats,  which  he,  accept- 


NOTES  393 

ing  the  belief  common  at  that  time,  ascribes  to  a  cruel  review  by  GiiTord 
in  the  Quarterly. 

Why  did  Shelley  select  the  name  Adonaisf 

12.  Urania.  Who  was  she  ?  For  the  significance  of  the  name  see 
Paradise  Lost,  VII,  1-20. 

II.    See  Psalm  xci.  6. 

30.  Milton,  '  the  sire  of  an  immortal  strain,'  is  here  represented  as 
third  with  Homer  and  Vergil  among  the  'sons  of  light.' 

44.   so7ne,  Byron  and  Shelley. 

47.  nursling  of  her  ividoivhood.  Possibly  this  means  that  Urania 
mourned  for  him  as  a  widowed  mother  might  such  a  child. 

63.    liquid.     Meaning? 

64-72.    What  adjective  in  this  stanza  is  best  chosen? 

100.    Splendor.     Meaning  ? 

116.  How  is  the  movement  of  this  line  retarded? 

117.  With  this  fine  figure  compare  Paradise  Lost,  XII,  628-632. 
155.    Compare  with  Tennyson's  /n  Memoriani,  cxv. 

169.    With  this  idea  compare  Lowell's 

Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might. 
An  instinct  witJiin  it  that  readies  and  tozvers. 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 
Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers. 

172.    Explain  the  hne. 

172-189.    What  is  the  relation  between  the  two  stanzas? 

186.    who  lends,  etc.     Death  lends  the  means  of  perpetuating  life. 

238.    tmpastured  dragon,  the  critic  who  attacked  Keats. 

250.  The  Pythian  of  the  age,  B\ron,  who,  in  his  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers,  replied  to  the  savage  attacks  of  the  Quarterly. 

264.  The  Pilgrim  of  Eternity  is  Byron.  The  'sweetest  lyrist'  of 
lerne,  or  Ireland,  is  Moore. 

281-306.  Compare  Shelley's  characterization  of  himself  here  with  that 
in  the  Skylark,  and  that  in  the  Ode  to  the  West  Wittd. 

307  fif.    Leigh  Hunt,  who  was  a  friend  of  Keats  in  London. 

343.  The  beginning  of  the  second  part  of  the  poem.  What  is  the 
effect  in  this  line  of  tlie  monosyllables? 

370-.  Where  is  a  similar  idea  expressed  in  Lycidas?  Compare 
Shelley's  conception  of  the  Deity  with  that  expressed  by  Wordsworth 
in  the  Lines  composed  a  Lew  Miles  above  Tintern  Abbey. 


394  NOTES 

399  ff.     Why  should  these  particular  poets  be  chosen? 
424.   With  this  compare  Byron's  Childc  Harold,  IV,  Lxxviii  ff. 
459.    Three  months  after  writing  this  poem  Shelley  was  drowned. 
485.    celestial  fire.     Meaning? 

What  is  the  metrical  form  of  the  poem?  Is  it  appropriate?  Would 
the  elegiac  stanza  have  been  better? 

What  phrases  serve  as  a  refrain? 

What  lines  describe  well  the  nature  of  Shelley's  own  poems? 

What  phrases  recall  similar  ones  in  the  Ode  to  a  Nightingale  ? 

What  can  you  gather  from  the  poem  of  Shelley's  religious  belief? 

Compare  Lycidas  and  Adonais.  In  which  is  the  grief  more  personal? 
In  which  does  the  poet  make  proportionately  the  more  frequent  reference 
to  himself?  Which  poem  better  characterizes  the  one  lamented?  In 
which  is  the  moral  indignation  the  greater?  In  which  are  the  transi- 
tions the  more  skillful?  Point  out  the  many  phrases  in  Adonais,  as  in 
line  10,  that  are  echoes  of  Lycidas.  Compare  the  two  flower  passages. 
What  qualities  are  emphasized  in  each  picture?  Milton's  dirge  begins 
ciuietly,  swells  in  its  grief  and  moral  indignation ;  then,  bringing  in 
the  note  of  hope,  subsides  and  ends  in  a  peaceful  strain.  Trace  the 
emotional  changes  in  Adonais. 

In  addition  to  the  study  here  suggested,  interesting  comparisons  may 
be  made  with  Arnold's  Thyrsis,  with  Tennyson's  In  Mefnoriani,  and 
with  Emerson's  Threnody. 

A  Lament.     Is  Shelley  here  master  of  his  emotion  or  mastered  by  it  ? 
What  lines  in  the  Skylark  are  here  recalled? 

What  in  nature  and  in  human  life  appealed  to  Shelley? 

What  is  the  source  of  Shelley's  metaphors? 

Where  does  he  aim  to  render  the  effect  rather  than  the  thing  itself  ? 

Shelley  has  been  called  the  poet  of  revolt.  Cite  some  passage  in 
support  of  this  criticism. 

Swinburne  calls  Shelley  'a  perfect  singing  god.'     Why? 

Is  it  true,  as  Professor  Courthope  says,  that  Wordsworth  speaks  the 
language  of  philosophers  ;  Shelley,  of  spirits  ;  but  Byron,  of  men? 

JOHN    KEATS 

The  Ode  to  a  Nightingale  was  written  in  1819,  about  three  months 
after  the  death  of  Keats's  brother  Thomas  by  consumption,  a  disease 
of  which  the  poet  was  destined  to  die  two  vears  later. 


NOTES  395 

i6.    Hippocreiie.     Meaning? 

In  which  line  in  stanza  ii  does  the  movement  seem  to  you  the  best? 

20-2I.  What  use  of  echo  words,  a  favorite  device  with  Keats,  is  here 
illustrated?     What  other  lines  exemplify  its  use? 

23,  27,  62.  What  significance  is  added  to  these  lines  by  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  poet's  life  ? 

43.  Is  embalmed  a  well-chosen  adjective?     51.  darkling.     Meaning? 
61.    What  is  the  emphatic  word  in  this  line? 

Stanza  vii.     This  stanza  suggests  more  than  is  expressed  directly. 

Can  you  form  a  definite  mental  picture  from  the  last  two  lines?  If 
not,  what  is  their  purpose?  67.   alien  corn.     Explain. 

What  does  the  bird  typify  to  the  poet? 

What  would  have  been  gained  or  lost  by  making  the  scene  more 
definite? 

Keats  said  that  he  looked  on  a  fine  phrase  as  a  lover  on  his  beloved. 
Point  out  the  fine  phrases  in  this  poem. 

Which  do  you  consider  the  most  beautiful  stanza?  Defend  your 
choice. 

Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn.     Why  should  Keats  call  this  poem  an  ode? 

1-2.    What  is  the  effect  of  the  alliteration  in  these  lines? 

5-10.  What  is  ihe  purpose  of  casting  this  description  into  the  ques- 
tion form  ? 

7.    Te)npe  and  Arcady.     Why  are  these  special  names  chosen? 

II.  What  justification  is  there  for  Keats's  making  this  statement? 
With  this  compare  Wordsworth's  Yarrow  Unvisited :  — 

For  when  7ve'rc  there,  although  ^tis  fair, 
'  Twill  be  another  Yarrow. 

27-30.    What  lines  of  Shelley's  Skylark  are  here  recalled? 
41.    Attic  shape.     Meaning?  brede.     One  of   numerous  illustra- 

tions of  Keats^s  freedom  in  spelling. 

44.  tease.     What  is  the  suggestion  of  this  word? 

Compare  this  poem  with  the  Ode  to  a  Nightingale.  Which  of  the 
two  poems  impresses  you  as  the  more  compact  ?  Which  is  the  more 
harmonious?     Which  do  you  like  the  better,  and  why? 

La  Belle  Dame  sans  Merci.  What  effect  has  the  poet  wished  to 
produce  in  this  poem,  and  what  means  has  he  employed  for  securing 
it?     How  does  the  structure  of  the  poem  add  to  this  effect? 


396  .  NOTES 

With  the  reading  of  Hnes  29-32  compare  that  of  another  edition, — 

She  took  me  to  her  elfin  grot, 
And  there  she  wept  and  sighed  full  sore. 
And  there  I  shut  her  wild,  wild  eyes 
With  kisses  fjur. 

Which  reading  do  you  prefer,  and  why  ? 

On  first  looking  into  Chapman's  Homer.     Explain  the  first  four  lines. 

6.    What  words  in  this  line  are  especially  suggestive,  and  why  ? 

II.  Does  Keats's  error  in  ascribing  the  discovery  of  the  Pacific  to 
Cortez  materially  aflFect  the  worth  of  this  sonnet  ? 

Why  is  the  close  of  the  sonnet  especially  eiTective  ? 

The  Eve  of,  St.  Agnes.  When  is  the  eve  of  St.  Agnes  ?  What  is 
the  legend  concerning  her  ? 

Why  should  this  special  time  and  name  have  been  selected  for  the 
poem  ? 

15.    rails.     Meaning?       37.    Is  «r_^^/;/ here  a  suggestive  adjective  ? 

70.    amort.     Meaning? 

133.    Is  brook  ordinarily  used  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  here  ? 

155-156.    churchyard  thing :  passing  bell.     Meaning? 

171.  Merlin  paid  his  debt.  What  is  the  allusion  ?  See  Tennyson's 
Merlin  and  Vivien. 

188.   ajuain.     Meaning?  193.    wm/(?//V/,  divinely  sent. 

218.  gules.    Meaning?    237.    Is /t'/^/Vf/ here  an  appropriate  epithet  ? 

241.    Explain  this  line. 

253-261.    Note  carefully  the  different  sensuous  appeals  of  this  stanza. 

Could  stanzas  xxx-xxxi  be  omitted  without  materially  affecting 
the  poem  ? 

277.   Eremite.     Meaning? 

292.  La  belle  Dame  sans  Merci  was  a  poem  written  in  the  early  part 
of  the  fifteenth  century  by  Alain  Chartier. 

What  is  the  stanzaic  form,  and  is  it  especially  effective? 

How  do  the  opening  lines  suggest  the  tone  of  the  entire  poem  ? 

Are  the  names  of  the  characters  well  selected  ? 

Study  Keats's  wonderful  use  of  words.  What  old  words  are  revived  ? 
Does  he  coin  any  new  ones  ?  What  common  ones  has  he  made  fresh 
and  striking  ? 

Discuss  the  criticism  sometimes  made  that  the  poem  should  end  with 
line  371. 


NOTES  397 

What  allusions  in  the  earlier  part  prepare  us  for  the  close  of  the 
poem  ? 

Discuss  the  statement  that  'the  Eve  of  St.  Agnes  appeals  too 
strongly  to  the  senses,  and  is  so  lacking  in  spirituality  that  it  cannot  be 
considered  poetry  of  the  highest  order.' 

Should  you  say  that  Keats's  work  is  characterized  by  strength  ? 

In  what  different  ways  do  these  poems  show  his  sensitiveness  to 
beauty  ? 

To  what  other  poet  we  have  studied  does  Keats  seem  most  similar 
in  disposition  ?     To  what  poet,  most  dissimilar  ? 

Compare  Keats's  attitude  toward  the  great  questions  of  life  with 
Shelley's. 

Which  of  these  two  poets  seems  to  possess  the  greater  delicacy  of 
touch  ? 

Can  you  see  any  reasons  why  so  many  nineteenth-century  poets  took 
Keats  as  their  model  ? 

THOMAS    HOOD 

I  Remember,  I  Remember.  Comparing  Vaughan's  Retreat,  Lamb's 
Sonnet  XI,  Wordsworth's  Ode:  Intimations  of  Immortality,  etc.,  with 
this  poem,  which  should  you  say  showed  most  sympathy  with  the 
heart  of  childhood  ?  Which  is  simplest,  noblest  ?  Which  is  most 
philosophical?     Which  is  most  pathetic? 

What  do  you  regard  as  the  finest  phrase  in  this  poem  ? 

Poe  says  of  the  author,  'One  of  the  noblest  — and  speaking  of 
Fancy  —  one  of  the  most  fanciful  of  modern  poets,  was  Thomas 
Hood.'     Does  the  poem  go  far  to  justify  such  an  estimate  ?     How  ? 

THOMAS   BABINGTON   MACAULAY 

The  Battle  of  Naseby.  i-6.  For  an  explanation  of  the  imagery 
read  Isaiah,  Ixiii.  i-6. 

9.    </rt_y  z«///;i^,  June  14,  1645.  "•   Man  of  Blood,  Q\i?ix\&?,\. 

12.  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale  commanded  the  left  wing  of  the 
Royalist  army  ;  Prince  Rupert,  the  German  nephew  of  the  king,  the 
right. 

14.    The  General,  Fairfax. 

22.  Alsatia.  For  a  description  of  this  notorious  district  of  London, 
see  Century  Dictionary,  or  Scott's  Fortunes  of  Nigel,  Chap.  XVI. 

29.  Prince  Rupert  forced  back  the  left  of  the  Parliamentary  army. 
Cromwell,  however,  had  been  equally  successful  against  the  Royalist 


398  NOTES 

left.     Cromwell    now  swung  round  against  the  rear   of  the    Royalist 
center. 

38.  Temple  Bar,  a  famous  gateway  before  the  Temple  in  London, 
now  replaced  by  the  Temple  Bar  Memorial. 

46.   lemqns,  sweethearts,  paramours. 
■  57.    she  of  the  Seven  Hills,  the  church  of  Rome.     See  Rev.  xvii.  9. 

60.   Houses,  of  Parliament. 

In  a  war  ballad  a  stirring  incident  should  be  shown  clearly  from  one 
point  of  view,  and  there  should  be  action  in  every  line.  Does  this 
poem  meet  these  requirements  ? 

What  characteristics  of  the  Puritans  are  here  emphasized  ? 

Point  out  where  Macaulay  carefully  explains  his  allusions.     Why? 

Whence  are  the  similes  taken  ? 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  internal  rhyme,  lines  3  and  7  ;  and  of  the 
feminine  rhyme  in  line  43  ? 

Show  that  Mrs.  Browning  might  have  had  this  poem  distinctly  in 
mind  when  she  spoke  of  'the  noble,  clear,  metallic  note'  in 
Macaulay's   poetry. 

JOHN    HENRY   NEWMAN 

Lead  Kindly  Light.  Cardinal  Newman  wrote  this  hymn  on  a  journey 
from  Palermo  to  Marseilles,  while  the  boat  lay  for  a  week  becalmed  in 
the  Straits  of  Bonifacio.  His  attitude  of.  mind  when  he  wrote  the 
hymn  is  given  in  the  Apologia  Pro  Vita  Sua,  pp.  94-100. 

4.  Lead  Thou  me  on.  In  the  Apologia  (p.  214)  he  says  that  for 
years  he  had  the  conviction  'that  my  mind  had  not  found  its  ultimate 
rest,  and  that  in  some  sense  or  other  I  was  on  a  journey.' 

17-18.  The  exact  meaning  of  these  two  lines  has  been  much  dis- 
cussed. The  author  himself  (in  a  letter  reprinted  in  Notes  and  Queries 
for  March  20,  1880)  refused  to  attempt  an  explanation.  Four  differ 
ing  interpretations  are  offered  (in  Notes  and  Queries  for  April  3. 
May  8,  June   12,  August  7  of  that  year). 

What  qualities  common  to  this  hymn  and  \.o  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul 
insure  the  immortality  of  both  ? 

In  line  11  some  editors  have  changed  the  reading  to  '  I  loved  day's 
dazzling  light.'     Discuss  the  effect  of  the  alteration. 

Line  15  has  been  changed  to 

'•  Through  dreary  doubts,  through  pain  and  sorrow,  till.' 

Show  that  this  is  to  change  poetry  to  prose. 


NOTES  399 

ELIZABETH    BARRETT    BROWNING 

Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese.  The  forty-four  sonnets  composing 
this  sequence  record  the  growth  of  the  love  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  for 
Robert  Browning.  The  name  she  gave  the  series  was  suggested  by 
her  husband's  calling  her  his  little  Portuguese,  and  was  intended 
to  veil  somewhat  the  autobiographic  nature  of  the  poems. 

XXII.    Study  the  management  of  the  pauses. 

Is  the  thought  ever  obscure  ? 

XLII.  What  qualities  entitle  this  to  rank  as  one  of  the  greatest 
sonnets  in  English  ? 

What  word  serves  as  a  keynote  ? 

A  Musical  Instrument.  Is  the  metrical  form  here  employed  happily 
selected  ? 

Why  is  the  rhyme  order  a  good  one  ? 

What  phrases  serve  as  a  refrain  ? 

Express  in  your  own  words  the  thought  as  summarized  in  the  last 
stanza.     Is  it  true  ? 

Is  there  a  distinctly  feminine  note  in  these  poems  of  Mrs.  Browning's? 

ROBERT    BROWNING 

Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister.  lo.  salve  tibi,  a  Latin  form  of 
greeting. 

14.   oak-galls.     What  are  gall-nuts,  and  for  what  used? 

39.    Arian.    What  was  the  so-called  Arian  heresy? 

49.    text  in  Galatiajis.     See  Gal.  v.  19-21. 

56.    Manichee.     What  did  the  Manichees  believe? 

60.    Belial.     See  Paradise  Lost.,  I,  489-505. 

71-72.    Plena  gratia,  etc.     Phrases  from  Latin  prayers. 

How  does  the  poem  illustrate,  by  its  figures,  by  its  diction,  and  by  its 
general  form,  Browning's  defiance  of  the  prevailing  theories  of  poetic 
art? 

Do  any  of  the  comparisons  seem  forced  or  fantastic? 

What  traits  does  the  speaker  reveal  in  himself? 

Are  these  traits  inconsistent  with  the  practice  of  such  formal  piety  as 
he  professes? 

Why  is  the  speaker  made  to  mention  the  kind  of  paper  and  the  type 
of  the  "scrofulous  French  novel'  ? 


400  NOTES 

How  has  Browning  contrived  to  suggest  tlie  kindness  and  simplicity 
of  Brotlier  Lawrence? 

Does  Browning's  own  personality  anywhere  obtrude  upon  the  poem? 

My  Last  Duchess.     3.    Now.     What  gesture  is  implied? 

6.  Fra  FandolpJi  and  Clans  of  Innsbruck  (56)  are  imaginary  person- 
ages. 

Note  the  management  of  pauses,  e.g.  16-17,  and  the  unexpected 
rhymes. 

47.    As  if  alive.     Returning  to  what  previous  phrase? 

53.  Nay,  etc.  What  action  is  here  suggested,  and  why?  Compare 
with  the  close  oi  Hamlet.,  I,  v. 

To   whom  is   the   Duke   speaking,  and   under  what  circumstances? 

What  are  the  advantages,  and  what  the  disadvantages,  of  casting  the 
poem  in  the  form  of  a  dramatic  monologue?  Would  it  probably  have 
been  clearer  and  stronger  if  put  in  dialogue  form  ? 

Of  which  character,  the  Duke  or  his  Duchess,  do  we  learn  the  more  ? 
Do  any  phrases  summarize  either  of  these  characters?  Of  what  things 
is  he  proud?  Is  he  selfish?  What  is  his  complaint  against  his  former 
wife?  What  does  he  intimate  that  he  shall  expect  of  his  new  wife?  In 
judging  the  character  of  the  Duchess,  we  must  remember  that  we  see 
her  only  through  her  husband's  eyes. 

'Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came.'  What  is  the  meaning  of 
"Childe"? 

Note  carefully  the  different  ways  in  which  extreme  weariness  is 
brought  out  in  the  beginning  of  the  poem. 

22.    obstreperous.     Meaning? 

55  ff.  How  does  the  speaker's  mental  attitude  as  symbolized  in  this 
stanza  differ  from  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  poem?  Where  do  we 
find  the  next  change  in  surroundings,  and  how  do  they  differ  from 
the  scene  here  portrayed? 

91.    Cnthbert  and  Giles  (97)  are  members  of  an  imaginary  band. 

91-102.    What  is  the  purpose  of  these  two  stanzas? 

Tell  the  story  of  the  poem.  What  different  means  are  employed  for 
giving  us  the  setting  and  the  story  of  the  quest?  What  do  you  think 
the  Dark  Toiver  symbolizes  ? 

Discuss  Browning's  diction  in  this  poem.  What  unusual  words  has 
he  here  employed?  Point  out  some  animated,  unpoetic,  and  grotesque 
words. 


NOTES  401 

What  passages  show  the  greatest  vigor?  Select  lines  marked  by 
delicacy  of  touch. 

What  verse  form  is  here  used?  Why  is  it  a  better  form  for  such  a 
poem  than  blani<  verse  would  be? 

In  what  sense  may  we  say  that  the  knight  has  gained  a  victory,  what- 
ever may  be  the  outcome  of  the  conflict? 

Andrea  del  Sarto.  29.  tny  everybody''s  tnooii.  Because  Andrea's 
wife  sat  as  his  model  for  his  Madonnas. 

93.  Moreno's,  the  highest  of  the  spurs  of  the  Apennines  to  the 
north  of  Florence.  —  Corson's  note. 

105.  The  Urbinate,  Raphael. 

106.  Vasari,  Giorgio  Vasari,  a  pupil  of  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

120.   What  interruption  of  the  monologue  occurs  here?    What  at  220? 

130.    Agnolo,  Michael  Angelo.     Who  was  he? 

146.    For  fear,  etc.     Why  was  he  afraid? 

150.  Fontainebleait.  The  famous  palace  thirty-seven  miles  from 
Paris,  built  by  Francis  I,  who  employed  Andrea  del  Sarto  to  decorate  it. 

263.  Leonard,  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  What  is  his  most  famous  pic- 
ture? Read  Giorgio  Vasari's  Lives  of  the  Most  Eminent  Painters, 
translated  by  Mrs.  Jonathan  Foster,  London,  1850,  Vol.  IIL  pp.  204- 
207,  and  show  how  Browning  has  painted  a  subjective  portrait  from  the 
suggestions  furnished  by  Vasari. 

What  is  the  difference  between  a  monologue  and  a  soliloquy  such  as  we 
have  \n  A  Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister?  Which  is  the  more  dramatic? 

How  do  the  first  lines  strike  the  keynote  for  the  whole  monologue? 
What  other  lines  {e.s;.  35)  suggest  the  setting  and  also  the  emotional 
atmosphere  of  the  poem? 

What  ethical  idea  is  at  the  basis  of  the  monologue? 

Does  Andrea  appeal  more  or  less  to  our  sympathies  because  he  real- 
izes his  failure?     By  what  particular  weakness  is  that  failure  caused? 

Which  is  the  more  vividly  revealed  —  the  speaker  in  Soliloquy  of  the 
Spatiish  Cloister  or  Andrea  del  Sarto  ? 

Judging  from  this  monologue,  what  should  you  say  were  Brovvning''s 
ideals  of  art?  Note  especially  line  97.  An  interesting  comparison  may 
be  made  with  Ruskin's  views,  as  stated  in  Queen  of  the  Air,  Tf  106. 

How  is  Browning's  buoyant  optimism  shown  in  this  '  twilight 
piece'  ? 

Herve  Riel.  Tiiis  poem  appeared  in  the  Cornhill  Magazine  for  March, 
1 87 1.      The  ^100  that  Browning  received  for  it,  he  contributed  to  the 

ENG.    I'OEiMS  —  26 


402  NOTES 

fund  then  being  raised  to  buy  food  for  the  people  of  Paris  after  the  siege 
by  the  Germans  in  1 870-1 871.  The  facts  narrated  in  the  story  are 
historical  except  in  one  particular.  Instead  of  asking  for  a  single 
holiday,  Herve  Riel  requested  a  complete  release  from  naval  service. 

5.    Raiice,  the  river  Ranee. 

21.  St.  Malo  is  famous  for  its  high  tides.  Ordinary  tides  rise  from 
twenty-three  to  twenty-eight  feet ;  and  spring  tides  forty-eight  feet  above 
low-water  mark. 

30.    Plymouth  Sound.     Why  mentioned?     How  far  away? 

43.  To7{rville,  the  French  admiral. 

44.  Croisickese,  native  of  St.  Croisic. 
46.    Maluinsj  dwellers  in  St.  Malo. 

49.    6^r^w,  the 'strand,' sandy  shore,     disembogues.     Meaning? 
92.   rampired  Solidor,  a  feudal  fort,  now  used  as  barracks. 
120.   but  a  run,  the  distance  is  about  a  hundred  miles. 
124.    Belle  Aurore,  beautiful  dawn. 
129.   head,  figurehead.  —  Rolfe's  note. 

How  is  Browning's  interest  in  dramatic  crises  of  character  develop- 
ment illustrated  here? 

What  devices  does  Browning  employ  for  capturing  and  holding  tlie 
reader's  interest?  Does  he  make  use  of  suspense?  surprise?  Are 
there  vivid  contrasts  of  emotional  tone? 

How  does  the  poem  illustrate  Browning's  limitations  as  a  dramatic 
poet?  Do  the  words  of  any  of  the  speakers  seem  inappropriate  to 
men  in  their  station  ?  Do  they  often  employ  the  inverted  order  of 
words?      Are  they  too  fluent? 

How  is  the  spirited  effect  of  the  poem  produced?  Is  the  narrative 
rapid?  condensed? 

Browning's  verse  is  said  to  have  a  tonic  effect,  like  that  of  wind  and 
sun.     Notice  the  frank  and  manly  tone  of  the  poem. 

Which  are  the  most  ringing  lines  ? 

Show  that  Browning  regarded  little  else  besides  the  human  soul  as 
worth  study,  and  that  poetry,  in  the  sense  of  verbal  music,  was  to  him 
only  a  subordinate  aim. 

Was  he  more  interested  in  tracing  the  development  of  character,  or 
in  revealing,  through  action  at  crucial  moments,  character  already 
formed  ? 

Which  one  of  Browning's  poems  studied  contains  the  noblest  basic 
idea? 


NOTES  403 

To  what  is  the  obscurity  of  Browning's  poetry  chiefly  due?  Is  it  clue 
mainly  to  the  fact  that  he  presents  only  dramatic  crises  of  character,  to 
the  condensation  of  the  expression,  to  the  ruggedness  of  the  verse,  or 
to  the  monologue  form  in  which  the  poems  are  frequently  cast? 

ARTHUR   HUGH   CLOUGH 

Where  lies  the  Land  ?  How  is  a  notable  unity  of  form  and  tone  here 
secured  ? 

Say  not  the  Struggle  Nought  Availeth.  Compare  the  thought  with- 
that  of  Longfellow's  A  Fsaliii  of  Life. 

Are  there  any  slight  imperfections  in  the  poem  ? 

What  are  the  resemblances  and  what  the  differences  between  the 
thought  of  this  poem  and  that  of  the  former?  Which  has  the  more 
pronounced  melody? 

Should  you  call  these  poems  'pagan'? 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD 

Shakespeare.  Has  Arnold  here  emphasized  the  qualities  we  commonly 
associate  with  Shakespeare? 

Should  you  imagine  Arnold  would  choose  Shakespeare  as  his  ideal 
man? 

With  this  sonnet  contrast  that  by  Longfellow  on  Shakespeare. 

Dover  Beach.     14.   This  suggests  what  line  in  Shelley's  Skylark? 

15-20.  Sophocles.  Antigone,  11.  582  ff.  'Happy  are  those  whose  life 
tastes  not  of  trouble.  To  all  whose  home  is  shaken  by  the  gods,  for 
them  no  kind  of  curse  is  wanting,  as  it  creeps  on  from  generation  to 
generation ;  even  as  when  the  swell  comes  coursing  o'er  the  darkling 
deep,  sped  by  storm  blasts,  that  blow  across  the  sea  from  Thrace,  it 
rolls  the  swart  sand  from  the  depths,  and  the  bluff  headlands  moan  and 
roar  in  the  storm.' —  Coleridge''s  translation. 

What  is  the  setting  (time,  place,  and  surroundings)  of  this  poem  ? 

Into  what  two  parts  does  the  poem  naturally  divide  itself?  Indicate 
the  relation  of  the  different  stanzas. 

Point  out  lines  where  the  movement  is  especially  fine. 

Look  up  in  some  history  of  English  literature  Arnold's  relation  to  the 
religious  thought  of  his  time.  Show  how  this  poem  is  a  typical  expres- 
sion of  his  belief. 


404  NOTES 

Self-dependence.  What  is  the  effect  of  the  change  of  meter  in  the 
last  stanza? 

What  is  the  danger  of  the  doctrine  here  advanced?  What  poems 
by  Hunt  and  Coleridge  teach  that  man's  greatest  happiness  comes  from 
serving  his  fellow-men  ? 

With  this  poem  compare  Wordsworth's  description  of  Milton  in  the 
sonnet  Lofuion,  1802. 

Does  the  intellectual  element  in  Arnold's  verse  ever  overshadow  the 
emotional? 

Show  how  these  different  poems  by  Arnold  illustrate  this  belief,  that 
'The  secret  of  life  is  joy,  not  peace  '  . 

What  notable  difference  in  spirit  is  apparent  in  these  poems  of 
Arnold  as  compared  with  those  of  Clough  ? 

GABRIEL   CHARLES    DANTE    ROSSETTI 

The  Blessed  Damozel.  This  poem  was  written  when  Rossetti  was  in 
his  nineteenth  year.  The  first  version  appeared  in  1847,  in  the  Germ, 
a  small  magazine  published  by  the  band  of  which  Rossetti  was  the 
leader.  Mr.  Hall  Caine  reports  Rossetti  as  saying,  '  I  saw  that  Poe  had 
done  the  utmost  it  was  possible  to  do  with  the  grief  of  the  lover  on 
earth,  so  I  determined  to  reverse  the  conditions,  and  give  utterance  to 
the  groanings  of  the  loved  one  in  heaven.' 

I.  Blessed,  damozel.  In  what  sense  is  each  of  these  words  em- 
ployed ? 

19.  What  is  the  purpose  of  these  interjected  lines?  Who  is  the 
speaker? 

54.  This  line  may  have  been  suggested  by  that  in  Job  xxxviii.  7, 
'  When  the  morning  stars  sang  together.' 

86.    Tree.    This  is  probably  a  symbol  of  immortal  life. 

126.    citherns  and citoles.     Meaning? 

Compare  this  poem  with  Poe's  Raven.  Which  expresses  the  deeper 
grief?     Which  is  the  more  musical? 

Point  out  the  mediaeval  elements  in  the  poem. 

What  details  carry  a  symbolic  meaning? 

What  are  the  most  daring  conceptions  in  the  poem  ? 

What  striking  figures  are  here  employed? 

How  is  the  loneliness  of  the  Blessed  Damozel  emphasized? 

Do  you  feel  that  the  lovers  are  destined  ever  to  meet  ? 


NOTES  405 

My  Sister's  Sleep.  This  poem  is  in  many  respects  most  typical  of 
the  Pre-Raphaelite  methods. 

What  poem  of  Tennyson's  published  about  the  same  time  employed 
and  made  famous  this  meter? 

Where  in  this  poem  has  Rossetti  shown  fine  management  of  pauses? 

Do  any  lines  move  haltingly  ? 

Has  the  poem  gained  or  lost  by  its  simplicity  and  marked  concrete- 
ness  ?     Is  there  any  apparent  straining  after  effect  ? 

Silent  Noon.  8.  visible  silence.  What  phrase  does  this  suggest  from 
My  Sister's  Sleep?  Compare  this  phrase  with  Milton's  '  darkness  visi- 
ble' in  Paradise  Lost,  I.  63. 

How  does  this  differ  in  form  from  the  Shakespearian  and  from 
the  Miltonic  sonnet? 

Show  how  each  detail  introduced  contributes  to  the  effect  Rossetti 
wished  to  produce. 

Does  any  phrase  summarize  the  spirit  of  the  description? 

Lost  Days.  Point  out  the  resemblances  and  the  differences  in  struc- 
ture between  this  and  the  preceding  sonnet.  Which  has  the  more  rapid 
movement? 

Does  the  sonnet  appeal  to  you  as  a  genuine  confession  of  the  writer's 
feelings?  Compare  the  remorse  here  expressed  with  that  in  Byron's 
On  this  Day  I  complete  My  Thirty-sixth  Year.  Whicli  is  the  more 
sincerely  impassioned? 

ALGERNON    CHARLES    SWINBURNE 

Atalanta  in  Calydon.  Tliis  is  the  first  chorus  in  Atalanta  in  Calydon, 
a  play  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  old  Greek  dramas.  It  is  sung  in 
honor  of  Artemis  by  a  chorus  of  Greek  virgins. 

2.    The  mother  of  months.    Which  month  is  meant? 

6.  Is  half  assuaged  for  Ttylus.  Cf.  II  Penseroso,  11.  56-57.  Retell 
the  story  of  Philomela. 

9.    Come  with  bows  bent,  etc.   Who  was  Artemis? 

41.    Pan  by  noon  and  Bacchus  by  ttight.   Why  are  these  mentioned? 

44.    The  Mcenad  and  the  Bassarid.    Who  are  referred  to  ? 

How  is  the  poet's  mastery  of  all  the  resources  of  verbal  music  here 
shown?  Point  out  some  of  the  most  n^elodious  lines.  Is  the  music 
sensuous?     What  of  the  appeal  to  the  sense  of  color? 


4o6  Notes 

Point  out  the  composite  and  intricate  nature  of  the  rhythm.  Instance 
anapestic,  dactylic,  and  iambic  hnes. 

Are  there  traces  of  the  fatal  fluency  for  which  Matthew  Arnold  blamed 
Swinburne,  affirming  that  Swinburne  used  a  hundred  words  where  one 
would  have  sufficed? 

The  Salt  of  the  Earth.  This  poem,  offering  a  remarkable  contrast 
in  many  ways  to  the  Chorus  from  Atalanta,  is  typical  of  one  great  class 
of  Swinburne's  work. 

How  does  this  lyric  gain  unity  and  force  from  the  sentence  structure? 

Compare  the  attitude  towards  childhood  here  expressed  with  that 
shown  in  some  of  the  poems  already  studied. 

ALFRED   TENNYSON 

Mariana.     8.  grange.  Meaning? 
31.    Cf.  Lycidas,  1.  187. 

74.  Cf.  //  Penseroso,  11.  78-82.  Notice  that  in  both  instances  the 
slight  sound  serves  to  accentuate  the  stillness. 

Compare  with  this  poem  Mariana  in  the  South,  its  sequel.  Which, 
by  portraying  her  surroundings  colored  by  her  own  emotions,  reveals 
more  indirectly  Mariana's  feelings? 

Which  is  the  more  effective  — the  direct  or  the  indirect  method? 

Point  out  in  detail  how  objects  and  sounds  are  selected  and  grouped 
so  as  to  suggest  and  emphasize  the  single  idea  of  loneliness. 

Compare  the  use  of  nature  to  reflect  human  moods  with  that  in 
Browning's  '  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came.''  Which  shows 
the  closer  observation  ?     What  kind  of  details  does  each  poet  select? 

Which  are  the  most  vivid  details  in  the  description? 

Break,  Break,  Break.  The  circumstances  of  the  composition  of  this 
poem  are  described  in  Tehnyson's  Aleinoirs,  I,  190. 

14.  Why  not  here  repeat  line  2  ?  Which  line  shows  the  better  com- 
bination of  vowels? 

15-16.    Meaning  ? 

What  are  typified  by  the  'fisherman's  boy'  and  the  'sailor  lad,' 
and  by  the  '  stately  ships '  ? 

Why  have  many  critics  regarded  these  lines  as  the  profoundest  ex- 
pression of  grief  in  English  poetry  ? 

Bugle  Song.  Mark  carefully  the  wealth  of  suggestion  in  the  song. 
Why  is  splendor,  in  line  i,  a  better  word  than  sunset  would  be? 


NOTES  407 

2.    What  is  the  suggestion  oi  old  in  story? 

16.  grow  is  the  important  word  in  this  line  ;  the  thought  being  that 
the  lives  of  the  lovers  will  be  reechoed  and  will  '  grow '  in  those  of  the 
succeeding  generation. 

Select  the  lines  where  the  sound  echoes  the  sense. 

What  is  gained  by  the  use  of  the  internal  rhyme? 

What  variations  in  the  refrain  have  been  introduced?  Are  they 
skillfully  arranged? 

Tears,  Idle  Tears.     20.    Death  in  Life.    Explain. 

What  emotion  is  Tennyson  here  attempting  to  portray  ?  What  dif- 
ferent qualities  are  attributed  to  the  emotion? 

What  phrase  is  used  as  a  refrain? 

What  meter  is  here  employed?  Why  do  we  scarcely  notice  the 
absence  of  rhyme  ? 

What  means  are  employed  for  securing  unity? 

Study  the  fine  balance  of  phrases,  especially  in  lines  13-14. 

In  Memoriam,  XV.  This  series  of  poems  was  written  between  1842 
and  1850  in  memory  of  Arthur  Henry  Hallam,  Tennyson's  beloved 
friend  at  Cambridge.  Hallam  was  a  young  man  of  noble  nature, 
and  of  exceptional  promise. 

Read  Sections  XI,  XII,  and  XIII,  with  which  this  is  contrasted. 

9-16.    Explain. 

Characterize  the  mood  of  the  poem. 

What  is  the  most  vivid  detail  in  this  description  of  nature? 

Would  the  selection  be  clearer  if  the  one  sentence  of  which  it  is 
composed  were   broken  up? 

Into  how  many  sentences  should  you  divide  it?  Why  did  Tennyson 
use  the  single  sentence? 

XXX.  8.  imite  Shadow.  Does  this  refer  to  Death  or  to  his  dead 
friend  ? 

13-16.    What  are  the  poefs  reasons  for  the  repetitions  in  this  stanza? 

21-24.    Of  what  lines  in  Lycidas  are  these  a  reflection? 

Compare  the  mood  with  that  in  XV.     Whence  has  sprung  the  hope? 

Point  out  the  effective  use  of  contrast  in  this  section. 

Give  in  your  own  words  Tennyson's  conception,  as  here  expressed,  ot 
the  condition  after  death. 

CXXXI.  I.  By  'Living  will,''  as  Tennyson  has  explained,  is  meant 
'  free  will  in  man,'  which  he  regarded  as  our  highest  and  most  enduring 


408  NOTES 

part.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  Tennyson  beHeved  that  the 
human  will  is  the  supreme  revelation  of  God  by  Himself. 

3.    spiritual  rock.    See  i  Cor.  x,  4. 

10.    With  this  compare  line  4  of  the  introduction  to  /;/  Mefnoriam. 

Stanza  iii  summarizes  well  Tennyson's  creed. 

Is  the  thought  here  expressed  loftier  than  that  in  the  other  two  sec- 
tions studied?     How? 

What  is  the  stanzaic  form  here  employed?  Why  is  it  especially 
good  for  such  a  series  of  poems  ? 

The  Brook.  Though  Tennyson  said  this  was  an  imaginary  brook,  it 
closely  resembles  the  brook  described  in  the  Ode  to  Memory  which  is 
known  to  have  been  the  one  near  Somersby,  Tennyson's  birthplace. 
The  two  descriptions  should  be  compared.  This  poem,  though  com- 
plete in  itself,  is  part  of  a  longer  one  {The  Brook),  which  should  be 
read  entire  to  understand  the  setting. 

I.    hern.,  heron. 

7.   thorps,  villages. 

19.  fairy  foreland,  tiny  cape. 

Note  the  melody,  or  tune  of  the  verse,  as  affected  by  the  vowels,  the 
consonants  (liquids  and  labials),  the  alliterations  and  assonances,  the 
meter,  the  frequent  double  rhymes,  the  length  of  the  stanza  employed. 

Where  has  Tennyson  most  successfully  suggested  the  sound  of  the 
brook? 

How  has  Tennyson  given  a  human  interest  to  the  brook? 

Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  This  ode  first  appeared 
in  1852,  on  the  day  of  the  Duke's  funeral.  It  was  twice  revised  for  sub- 
sequent editions.     The  present  text  is  that  of  the  final  revision  of  1855. 

42.    Wij'r/^-OTif/^r'j' TW/cr,  conqueror  of  Napoleon. 

49.  the  cross  of  gold.  This  is  upon  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral, 
in  the  crypt  of  which  Lord  Nelson  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  are 
buried. 

52.  Among  the  wise  and  bold.  Many  military  and  naval  heroes  are 
buried  in  the  cathedral. 

59-    Cf.  Macbeth.  V,  viii,  50. 

80-82.    This  thought  is  perhaps  suggested  by  Is.  Ixiii.  i. 

83.    Mighty  Seaman.  Nelson. 

99-101.    What  incidents  in  the  life  of  Wellington  are  here  referred  to? 

123.    loud  Sabbath,  Waterloo,  June  18,  1815. 


NOTES  409 

137.  Baltic.  Campbell's  TJie  Battle  of  the  Baltic  commemorates  this 
victory. 

153.    What  two  kinds  of  government  did  Tennyson  dislike? 

188.    Who  was  Alfred  the  Great? 

217.    To  which  07ir  God,  etc.,  Is.  Ix.  19. 

What  pairs  of  lines  occurring  twice  (with  variations)  serve  as  a  kind 
of  refrain  ? 

What  is  the  metrical  effect  of  the  single  rhyme  and  the  long  vowels 
in  stanza  in?     Compare  in  The  Battle  of  the  Baltic,  11.  68-72, — 

Soft  sigh  ike  whids  of  heaven  o^er  their  grave  ! 
While  the  billow  mournful  rolls, 
And  the  mermaid'' s  song  condoles. 
Singing  glory  to  the  souls 
Of  the  brave  1 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  irregular  meter  in  the  lines  describing  the 
battle  of  Waterloo? 

Which  lines  suggest  by  their  sound  the  tolling  of  the  bell? 

Which  lines  suggest  by  their  music  the  choral  chant  in  the  cathe- 
dral ? 

Compare  with  the  thought  of  stanza  vii  that  of  Kipling's  Reces- 
sional. 

Where  is  the  climax  of  the  ode  —  in  which  stanza  does  the  poem 
reach  its  emotional  culmination? 

This  ode  has  been  called  '  the  best  poem  on  a  national  event  that 
has  ever  been  struck  off  by  a  Laureate  under  the  sudden  impatient 
spur  of  the  moment.'  What  qualities  in  the  Ode  tend  to  justify  this 
estimate? 

The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade.  The  charge  here  commemorated 
occurred  at  Balaklava  in  the  Crimea,  October  25,  1854.  Scarcely  a 
hundred  and  fifty,  out  of  about  six  hundred  and  thirty,  survived. 

Of  the  four  battle  poems  —  The  Ballad  of  Agincojirt,  Hohenlinden, 
Naseby,  and  this  —  which  is  the  most  stirring?  Which  is  the  most 
noble?  Which  is  the  most  reflective?  In  which  is  the  meter  best 
adapted  to  express  the  thought? 

To  what  emotions  besides  that  of  patriotism  does  this  poem  appeal  ? 
How  does  this  poem  compare  in  warmth  and  fervor  with  Tennyson's 
other  poems? 

Why  is  this  probably  the  best  known  of  the  author's  poems? 


4IO  NOTES 

Milton.  This  poem  is  one  of  Tennyson's  '  experiments  in  quantity.' 
The  meter  is  an  imitation  of  the  Alcaic  meter,  so  called  from  Alczeus, 
the  inventor,  a  lyric  poet  of  Mitylene  in  Lesbos. 

The  Alcaic  meter  consists  of  five  feet  —  a  spondee  or  iambus,  an  iam- 
bus, a  long  syllable,  and  two  dactyls. 

9.  Me  rather.  Tennyson  evidently  preferred  the  fourth  and  fifth 
books  of  Paradise  Lost. 

Compare  line  3  with  line  10  of  Wordsworth's  Londofi,  1802.  Which 
better  describes  Milton's  style  ? 

By  what  means  has  Milton  varied  the  regular  Alcaic  meter? 

What  is  the  most  famous  phrase  in  the  poem  ? 

What  poem  of  Milton's  previously  read  should  you  choose  as  best 
illustrating  the  appropriateness  of  this  phrase? 

Crossing  the  Bar.  For  an  account  of  the  composition  of  this  poem 
see  Tennyson's  Memoirs,  II,  367. 

3.    Explain  this  line.  9.    With  this  contrast  line  i. 

15.    Pilot.     Meaning? 

Was  Tennyson's  death  such  as  he  here  desires? 

Compare  the  attitude  toward  death  with  that  expressed  in  Raleigh's 
Even  Such  is  Time.,  and  that  in  Waller's  Old  Age. 

Why  has  this  frequently  been  regarded  as  the  most  perfect  of 
Tennyson's  lyrics? 

Should  you  judge  that  Tennyson  polished  his  work?  Give  reasons 
for  your  answer. 

Do  his  poems  ever  seem  over-ornate? 

Are  there  many  lines  that  could  be  detached  from  the  poems  for 
quotation  ? 

Compare  Tennyson  with  Browning  in  respect  to  hopefulness,  clarity 
of  thought  and  expression,  depth  of  thought.  Which  possessed  the 
greater  insight  into  human  nature?     Which  was  the  better  metrist? 

Compare  Tennyson  with  Wordsworth  and  with  Burns  in  respect  to 
their  appreciation  of  nature,  and  their  attitude  towards  it.  Which 
interested  Tennyson  more  —  man  or  nature? 


INDEX   OF    AUTHORS 


Arnold,  Matthew 


PAGE 


Ballads 23 

Blake,  William 149 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett      .  281 

Browning,  Robert 284 

Butler,  Samuel 91 

Burns,  Robert 152 

Byron,  George  Gordon  Noel,  Lord  210 

Campbell,  Thomas 207 

Campion,  Thomas 67 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey 11 

Clough,  Arthur  Hugh    ....  308 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor.       .     .  197 

Collins,  William 130 

Cowper,  William       146 

Donne,  John 70 

Drayton,  Michael 53 

Dryden,  John loi 

Gay,  John 105 

Goldsmith,  Oliver 133 

Gray,  Thomas 120 

Herbert,  George 72 

Herrick,  Robert 71 

Hood,  Thomas 276 

Hunt,  Leigh 209 

Jonson,  Ben 68 

Keats,  John      ...;...    255 
Lamb,  Charles 205 


Landor,  Walter  Savage 
Lovelace,  Richard  .  . 
Lyly,  John 


Macaulay,  Thomas  llabington 

Milton,  John 

Moore,  Thomas 


Nairne,  Carolina,  Lady 
Newman,  John  Henry  . 


PAGE 

206 


52 

278 

73 
?o8 

168 
280 


Pope,  Alexander 
Prior,  Matthew 


Raleigh,  Sir  Walter 

Rossetti,  Gabriel  Charles  Dante 


Scott,  Sir  Walter 

Shakespeare,  William    .     .     .     , 
Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe    .     .     .     , 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip      .... 
Spenser,  Edmund      .... 
Suckling,  Sir  John     .... 
Surrey,  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of 
Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles 


106 
105 

37 
3.2 

186 

58 
230 

51 
40 
90 
36 

.i20 


Tennyson,  Alfred 322 

Thomson,  James 116 

Vaughan,  Henry 99 

Waller,  Edmund 73 

Wesley,  Charles 119 

Wordsworth,  William    .     .     .     .170 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas 35 


411 


INDEX    OF    FIRST    LINES 


A   face   that    should    content    me 

wondrous  well,  35. 
A  harder  lesson  to  learne   Conti- 
nence 45. 
Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe 

increase  !),  209. 
Ah !  what  avails  the  sceptered  race, 

206. 
Ah,  what  can   ail   thee,  wretched 

wight,  260. 
All  human   things   are   subject   to 

decay,  loi. 
Avenge,  O   Lord,  thy  slaughtered 

saints,  whose  bones  89. 
A  wight  he  was  whose  very  sight 

would  91. 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind  !  63. 
Break,  break,  break,  325. 
Bury  the  great  Duke,  331. 
But  do  not  let  us  quarrel  any  more, 
295. 

Calme  was   the  day,  and   through 

the  trembling  ayre  40. 
Come  thou  monarch  of  the  vine,  65. 
Crabbed  Age  and  Youth  60. 
Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  played  52. 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 
68. 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  Mind ! 

217. 
Even  such   is   time,  that  takes  in 

trust  39. 

41 


Fair  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 
71- 

Fair  stood  the  wind  for  France, 
54- 

Farewell,  Love,  and  all  thy  laws 
forever!  35. 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun, 
65. 

Five  years  have  passed,  five  sum- 
mers, with  the  length  170.    • 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear,  164. 

From  harmony,  from  heavenly  har- 
mony, 102. 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies : 
67. 

Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have 
I  seen,  59. 

Go,  rose,  my  Chloe's  bosom  grace  ! 

105. 
Go,  Soul,  the  body's  guest,  yj . 
Gr — r  —  r  —  there  go,  my  heart's 

abhorrence  !  284. 

Hail  to  thee,  blithe  Spirit  !  233. 
Haifa  league,  half  a  league,  340. 
Happy  those    early  days,  wlien    I 

99. 
Hark,  hark  !   the  lark  at  heaven's 

gate  sings,  65. 
Hast   thou   a   charm    to    stay   the 

morning  star  201. 
He  was  the  Word  that  spake  it ; 

70. 
Hence,  loathed  Melancholy,  73. 
Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys,  78. 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 


4'3 


Her   mother   died   when    she    was 

young,  23. 
How  do  I  love  thee?    Let  me  count 

the  ways.  282. 

I   come   from   haunts  of  coot  and 

hern,  329. 
I'm  wearin^  awa\  John,  168. 
I  prithee  send  me  back  my  heart, 

90. 
I  remember.  I  remember,  276. 
I  sing  of  brooks,  of  blossoms,  birds, 

and  bowers,  71. 
I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud  175. 
I  weep  for  Adonais  —  he  is  dead  ! 

236. 
I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies  !  25. 
If  aught  of  oaten  stop,  or  pastoral 

song, 131. 
If  childhood  were  not  in  the  world, 

322. 
In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan  204. 

Jack  and  Joan,  they  think  no  ill,  67. 
Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul,  1 19. 
John  Anderson  my  jo,  John,  165. 

Lead  kindly  light,  amid  th'  encir- 
cling gloom,  280. 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true 
minds  60. 

March,  march,  Ettrick  and  Teviot- 

dale,  196. 
Milton  !  thou  shouldst  be  living  at 

this  hour:   184. 
Much  have  I  travePd  in  the  realms 

of  gold,  261. 
My  first   thought  was,  he    lied    in 

every  word,  288. 
My  hair  is  grey,  but  not  with  years, 

217. 


My  heart  aches,  and  a  drowsy 
numbness  pains  255. 

My  lov"d,  my  honored,  much  re- 
spected friend  !  154. 

My  true  love  hath  my  heart,  and  I 
have  his,  51. 

Now  welcom  somer  with  thy  sonne 
softe,  1 1 . 

O  mighty-mouthed  inventor  of  har- 
monies, 342. 

O  Mistress  mine,  where  are  you 
roaming  ?  64. 

O,  my  Luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose, 
163. 

O,  ruddier  than  the  cherry  !  106. 

O  wild  West  Wind,  thou  breath  of 
Autumn's  being,  230. 

O  world  !  O  life  !  O  time  !  254. 

O,  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of 
the  west,  195. 

Of  all  the  causes  which  conspire  to 
blind  106. 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night,  208. 

Oh  that  those  lips  had  language  ! 
Life  has  passed,  146. 

Oh  !  Wherefore  come  ye  forth,  in 
triumph  from  the  North,  278. 

On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
207. 

On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  six- 
teen hundred  ninety-two,  303. 

Others  abide  our  question.  Thou 
art  free,  309. 

Piping  down  the  valleys  wild,  151. 
Presumptuous    man  !    the    reason 
would'st  thou  find,   113. 

Queen  and  Huntress,  chaste  and 
fair,  69. 


414 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 


Ruin    seizj    thee,    ruthless    King! 
125. 

Say  not  the  struggle  nought  avail- 

eth,  308. 
Scots,  wha  hae  \vi'  Wallace  bled, 

167. 
She    dwelt    among   the  untrodden 

ways    175. 
She  fell  asleejj  on  Christmas  Eve, 

Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  sigh  no  more  ! 

63. 
Since  there's  no  help,  come  let  us 

kiss  and  part  !  53. 
St.  Agnes'  Eve  —  Ah,  I^itter  chill  it 

was  !  262. 
Stern    Daughter   of  the    Voice   of 

God  !   176. 
Sunset  and  evening  star,  342. 
Sweet  Auburn  !  loveliest  village  of 

the  plain,  133. 
Sweet   day,  so   cool,  so   calm,  so 

bright,  72. 

Take,    O    take    those    lips    awav, 

64. 
'  Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what 

they  mean,  326. 
Tell  me  not.  Sweet,  I  am  unkind, 

99. 
Tell  me,  where  is  fancy  bred.  62. 
That's  my  last  Duchess  painted  on 

the  wall,  286. 
That   time   of  year  thou  mayst  in 

me  behold  59. 
The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the 

wolf  on  the  fold.  212. 
The  blessed   damozel   leaned   out, 

312. 
The  curfew  tolls  tlie  knell  of  j^arting 

day,  130. 


The  Isles  of  Greece,  the  Isles  of 
Greece  !  213. 

The  keener  tempests  come ;    and 
fuming  dun    116. 

The  King  had  deeni'd  the  maiden 
bright   186. 

The  King  was  on  his  throne,  210. 

The  lost  days  of  my  life  until  to- 
day, 319. 

The  merchant,  to  secure  his  treas- 
ure, 105. 

The  sea  is  calm  to-night,   309. 

The  seas  are  quiet  when  the  winds 
give  o'er!  73. 

The   soote   season,  that   bud   and 
bloom  forth  brings,  36. 

The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls 
326. 

The  wild  winds  weep,  150. 

The  world    is  too   much  with  us: 
late  and  soon,  185. 

The  year's  at  the  spring  284. 

There  was  a  time  when  meadow, 
grove,  and  stream,  178. 

Thou  fair-hair'd  angel  of  the  even- 
ing, 149. 

Thou    still    unravished    bride    of 
quietness,  258. 

To  fair  Fidele's  grassy  tomb  130. 

To-night  the  winds  begin  to  rise, 
327- 

Under  the  greenwood  tree  62. 

We  are  na  fou,  we're  nae  that  fou. 

166. 
We   were    two    pretty    babes,    the 

youngest  she,  205. 
Weary  of  myself  and  sick  of  ask- 

ing3ii. 
Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 

161. 


INDEX   OF   FIRST    LINES 


415 


Wee,      sleekit.      cowrin,     tim'rous 

beastie,   152. 
Whan  that  Aprille  with  his  shoures 

sote  12. 
What  was  he  doing,  the  great  God 

Pan,  282. 
When    Britain    first,    at    Heaven''s 

command,   118. 
When  I  consider  how  my  light  is 

spent  89. 
When  icicles  hang  bv  the  wall,  61. 
When  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and 

men's  eyes,  58. 
When  love  with  unconfined  wings, 

98. 
When    lovely    Woman    stoops    to 

folly,   145. 
When  our  two  souls  stand  up  erect 

and  strong,  281. 
When  shawes   beene  sheene,  and 

shradds  full  fayre,  26. 
When  the  hounds  of  spring  are  on 

winter's  traces,  320. 


When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  si- 
lent thought   58. 

Where  lies  the  land  to  which  the 
ship  would  go  ?  308. 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I  : 
66. 

Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover  ? 
90. 

'Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladie  ? 

193- 
Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I 

begun,  70. 
With  blackest  moss  the  flower-pots, 

322. 
With  how  sad  steps,  O  Moon,  thou 

climbs't  the  skies!  52. 

Ye  Clouds  !  that  far  above  nn  float 

and  pause,  197. 
Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and 

once  more,  83. 
Your  hands   lie   open   in  the  long 

fresh  grass, —    319. 


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AT 
LOS  ANGELES 
*     UBRARY 


